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HOMERIC BALLADS; 



WITH 



TRANSLATIONS AND NOTES 



BY THE LATE 

% 



WILLIAM MAGINN, LL.D. 




LONDON : 
JOHN W. PARKER, WEST STRAND. 



M.DCCC.L. 



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b% 



£ 






CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

Editor's Preface ...... v 



HOMERIC BALLADS. 

Introduction ... ... 1 

I. THE BATH OF ODYSSEUS. . . 17 

Notes .38 

II. SONG OF THE TROJAN HORSE . 43 

III. THE RETURN OF THE CHIEFS FROM 

TROY. 57 

Notes ...... 118 

IV. THE CLOAK 119 

Notes . . . . . .138 

V. THE DOG ARGUS 139 

Notes ... . 148 

H. b. a 



iv CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

VI. THE FUNERAL OF ACHILLES . . 155 

Notes . . . . . .174 

VII. THE INTRODUCTION OF PENELOPE . 177 

Notes . . . . ■ . 188 

VIII. THE LAST APPEARANCE OF PENELOPE 191 

IX. THE PROPHECY OF THEOCLYMENUS 

THE SEER 205 

Notes 218 

X. THE STORY OF THE SWINEHERD . 221 

XI. THE BEATEN BEGGARMAN . . 239 

Notes ...... 262 

XII. THE FIRST APPEARANCE OF HELEN . 267 

Notes ...... 292 

Note upon cj>r} 294 



PREFACE. 



THE following Ballads were originally published 
in Fraser's Magazine, through the course of 
the year 1838. The favourable opinion which 
was then expressed concerning them by competent 
judges has induced the present proprietor to rescue 
them from the ordinary fate of fugitive pieces, and 
give them to the world in a more permanent shape. 
Had the Author been spared to undertake him- 
self the business of republication he would doubt- 
less have made many corrections, especially in the 
notes. He repeatedly shews himself sensible of 
the faults which he was likely to commit, as being 
necessarily by the nature of his position an ephe- 
meral and to a, certain extent a political writer: 
and at the very close of his work he speaks of the 
apparent justice with which a charge of flippancy 
may be preferred against notes written in the 
usual hasty style of Magazine composition, and in 
English, on matters deemed worthy of the gravest 
attention. This temporary and superficial character 
it has not been found easy wholly to eradicate : 



vin PREFACE. 

nor indeed would it have been desirable to do so, 
as it must have destroyed the peculiar features 
which are stamped as on this, so on every produc- 
tion of Dr Maginn's pen, and exceeded even the 
widest construction of the duty of an Editor, whose 
imprimatur, far from being the same as that of an 
Author, simply engages him to remove what he 
believes to have been excrescences, such as any 
man's calmer judgment would naturally have re- 
jected. It is with this view that besides several 
alterations in the text of the Ballads, some affecting 
the language, others the sense, considerable omis- 
sions have been made in the Notes, which as they 
stood contained many passages fairly liable to 
objection. Dr Maginn's constitutional vivacity, 
heightened as it was by keen political feeling, had 
led him sometimes to introduce allusions foreign 
to the subject, at others to treat even matters 
of legitimate discussion in what may be called a 
party spirit, grateful no doubt to the readers of a 
periodical, but proportionately distasteful to those 
for whom it possesses no such adventitious interest. 
This was particularly discernible in the remarks on 
Buttmann, whom he apparently regarded with the 
natural antipathy of a conservative to a reformer 
in literature, of an amateur to a professional scho- 
lar. Enough has been retained in these pages to 



PREFACE. ix 

shew the strength of the sentiment without its 
virulence— the ground of the difference apart from 
the exaggerated form which it occasionally took. 
Whatever may be thought of the real merits of the 
questions at issue, the sprightly vigour and shrewd 
common sense of the English litterateur seem fairly 
to entitle him to the praise of incidental success. 
Bentley is now universally held to have been victo- 
rious in his celebrated controversy : yet his oppo- 
; nents still obtain credit for their singular ingenuity ; 
and so the discursive facility displayed in these 
annotations, as in those of Dr Hodgson on his 
translation of Juvenal, may be admired by one 
who thinks most slightingly of their desultory at- 
tacks on the heavy-armed forces of German criti- 
cism. Any traces of self-confidence and ostenta- 
tious superficiality which they may shew, are hardly 
likely in the present state of scholarship to do 
much harm by the force of example — while their 
airy buoyancy may suggest some practical hints to 
the more profound and serious students who now-a- 
days approach such subjects. 

In turning from the Notes to the Ballads them- 
selves, it is not necessary to speak longer in the 
language of apology. It is a trite, but a true say- 
ing, that our age, whatever may be the defects of 
its positive character, has preeminently the faculty 



x PREFACE. 

of entering into the spirit of all former ages ; and 
in no particular is this seen more clearly than in 
our notions of translation. Independently of a 
closer attention to the matter of an author, the 
duty of preserving his manner as much as possible 
was never so thoroughly felt as it is now. Before 
the present generation, a translation was always 
made in the style of its own period : and, accord- 
ingly, it was a mere matter of chance whether or 
no it bore any analogy to the style of the master- 
piece of whom it professed to be a copy. Occa- 
sionally some instinct may have led the trans- 
lator to a congenial original, but too frequently 
it happened that the classic authors, in obeying 
the summons to appear before the English world, 
fell upon evil times. The age in which Chapman 
took up the Iliad also produced versions of the 
iEneid in rude ballad-measure or most un-Virgilian 
Hexameters. Howe's success in Lucan is but a 
poor offset against the magnitude of Pope's failure 
in Homer. Even so late as 1831 Mr Sotheby ap- 
pears to have thought that the terse and elegant 
couplets into which he had rendered the Georgics 
might be adapted (not without a considerable sacri- 
fice of their own ease and beauty) to convey the 
spirit of the Homeric poems. It was against this 
erroneous practice that Dr Maginn published his 



PREFACE. xi 



protest in behalf of Homer. He may be es- 
teemed the first who consciously realised to him- 
self the truth that Greek ballads can be really re- 
presented in English only by a similar measure. 
This is his great praise, and will continue after 
the success of his execution shall have been ra- 
tified by other workmen in the same field. It is 
not pretended that he appropriated the whole by 
his single labour. Verses thrown off by a modern 
writer for a magazine are likely to be deficient at 
times even in the peculiar character which it is 
their chief object to display. Nor does it seem 
that a series of ballads in different metres is abso- 
lutely the nearest approximation to the continuous 
narrative of Homer, whose unity these very trans- 
lations so strenuously defend. Dr Maginn indeed 
intimates that in his opinion 'the only metre in 
which the Iliad and Odyssey as whole poems can 
be adequately translated into English is the Spen- 
serian * :' but the decision will scarcely be held 
valid unless there be made out a closer relation 



* The words here quoted are in the original paper followed 
by a sentence which, now that the writer's death has furnished a 
comment on it, is rendered doubly affecting by its very light-heart - 
edness : * I have made considerable progress with such a translation, 
and sometimes I think I may finish it. Why I am not sure of so 
doing will be found out by any one who takes the trouble of con- 
sulting the seventh Satire of Juvenal/ 



xii PREFACE. 

than most will admit to exist between the Tale of 
Troy divine and the Fairy Queen. It is a sufficient 
condemnation of the various specimens of Hex- 
ameter translation which have been published of 
late years to say, that they answer to nothing in 
English. A really successful version of Homer, 
when made, will appear in some form already exist- 
ing in our literature. Such an attempt is in no 
way superseded by the present publication, which 
will rather serve it as a prelude and harbinger. 
On the other hand, no triumphs of subsequent cul- 
tivation can detract from the merit of a work by 
which the ground was first broken up : a work 
which, like The Lays of Ancient Rome, its natural 
associate in the public mind, though its junior in 
point of time, aims at resolving into their con- 
stituent elements, whether primary or not, the 
records of a nation's antiquity. 

j. a 



HOMERIC BALLADS. 



INTRODUCTION. 

THE prevailing opinion in ancient times was, that 
the poems of Homer were written, or rather 
sung, in detached pieces. "Eypa^e 8e, says Suidas, rr\v 

'iXtaSa, ovx apa, ovbe Kara to crvve^es, KaBdirep (rvyKelrat, • 
dXX* avTos fi€V €Kd(TTr)V payj/codiav ypdyjras iv ra TrepivovTeiv 
ras 7rok€is rpo(f)r)s eveKev, aTreknrev. The common story 

is, that these scattered fragments were put into 
the order in which we now have them by Pisistra- 
tus. If he did so, well may the inscription said to 
have been engraven on his statue recite it as one 
of his proudest boasts. 

OS TOv'OfATJpOV 

v H0poio-a, cnropdbrjv to 7rp\v deibopevov. 

All critical readers of Homer know, that the 
Scholia on Dionysius the Thracian, cited "by Leo 
jAllatius de Patria Homeri, Eustathius, Josephus, 
Aulus Gellius, Libanius, Mian, tell the same story. 
Cicero believed it : — ' Quis doctior iisdem illis tem- 
poribus, ant cujus eloquentia litteris instructior, 
jquam Pisistrati, qui primus Homeri libros, confusos 
antea, sic disposuisse fertur, ut nunc habemus ?' — 
De Oratore. The honour, however, is claimed for 

H. B. 1 



2 HOMERIC BALLADS. 

Lycurgus, that he brought the whole poems to 
Sparta from Ionia, about three hundred years 
before the days of Pisistratus. Plutarch, in his 
life, tells us that Lycurgus gathered the fragments 
in Asia, and introduced them to the Greeks, among 
whom their renown was as yet obscure \p6^a — 
dfiavpa], Mian asserts, that he brought back the 
poems entire : 'O^e de AvKovpyos 6 AaKedaip,6vios a6poav 
7TpcoTov els rrjv 'EAAaSa €Kopi£e ttjv c Op,i]pov 7TOLrj(riv. Solon, 

also, who preceded Pisistratus, has some share of 
the glory. Diogenes Laertius thinks the old legis- 
lator did more for Homer than his successor: 
MaXXop ovv 2ok(ov "Ofirjpov ecfxoricrev rj UeicricrTpaTOS, as 
<prj(TL Aievx&as iv 7rep7rrco MeyapiK&v. 

No ancient author, I believe (except the Chori- 
zontes, who maintained that the Iliad and Odyssey 
were written by different persons, and supported 
their argument by a piece of stupid criticism, 
which is found in the Venetian Scholia, II. b. 356, 
and which I may hereafter take an opportunity of 
noticing), imagined that the works gathered by 
Pisistratus, or Solon, or Lycurgus, were not written 
by one man, and that one man named Homer. 
It was reserved for modern times to start the 
astounding doctrine that these divine poems are 
the production of different hands. I am not ig- 
norant of the talent, learning, and industry of 
Wolf; but I should as soon believe in four and 



INTRODUCTION. 3 

twenty contemporary, or nearly contemporary, 
Homers, as in four and twenty contemporary 
Shakespeares, or Miltons,, or Dantes. 

More than seven and twenty centuries have 
rolled away since Homer's time, according to his 
received date ; and, in all languages, half-a-dozen 
names have not been produced who can be allowed 
to approximate to him. I firmly believe he has 
had but one equal, and even the greatness of Ms 
genius is disputed — by those, however, who, in my 
opinion, are not capable of appreciating either 
Shakespeare or Homer. I look only to the in- 
ternal evidence of the poems themselves. As for 
external evidence, we know as much of Homer as 
i the earliest Greek writer who mentions him. The 
> poems were in all men's mouths before history or 
! biography — far before criticism or antiquarianism, 
( were thought of; and Herodotus himself tells no- 
thing certain of their author. 

The stories of scholiasts and grammarians, 
picked up from obscure and idle sources,, are no- 
j thing more than guesses or fictions, on which no 
1 reliance can be placed. How little do we in reality 
j know of Solon, or Lycurgus, or Pisistratus ! It is 
highly probable that men, legislating for rude com- 
munities, would be anxious to furnish their people 
Jwith the means of enjoying the strains of their 
f national favourite, which were, besides, manuals of 

1—2 



to 



4 HOMERIC BALLADS. 

their religion and records of their ancient history ; 
but they did no more than direct that the public 
reciters of the poems, the Rhapsodists, should sing 
them in order. Such was the regulation of Hip- 
parchus, as we are informed by Plato; the same 
we are told of Solon. Pisistratus might, perhaps, 
have directed the details of an edition, as Ptolemy 
did some three centuries later; but I should as 
readily credit that the poems were written by 
different persons, whose labours were afterwards 
gathered and soldered into a whole by a man of 
another age, as I should credit the Voyage of 
Ulysses. The thing is merely impossible ; 

And what's impossible can't be, 
And never, never comes to pass. 

Scaliger, I believe, first started the hypothesis 
in his Poetics; a work, of which the taste and 
judgment are in an inverse ratio to its learning ; 
and Giambattista Vico, about the beginning of the 
last century, put it forth with much ability, in his 
Principi di Scienza Nuova. Wolf, at the end of 
the century, in his Prolegomena, collected all that 
learning and ingenuity could effect for the same 
purpose ; and he has succeeded in convincing some 
scholars. Sir Walter Scott, I am told, used to call 
it the great literary heresy ; and so must every one 
who looks upon the poems with critical or poetical 
eye. It is possible^ nay, certain, that many lines, 



INTRODUCTION. 5 

and some whole passages, are interpolated; and 
we must often agree with Payne Knight, though 
certainly not so far as to retrench with him about 
two thousand lines : but I think it possible, also, 
that the obelising hand of Aristarchus sometimes 
went too far, and that many genuine lines were 
rejected. It may be true, for instance, that the 
adventure of Dolon, which forms the tenth book of 
the Iliad, may have been inserted, as Eustathius 
tells us, by order of Pisistratus ; though I do not 
believe anything of the kind : but that any mind 
but one, and that of the highest class of human 
mind, not only for the execution of details, but for 
the general ordering and regulating of a whole,, 
originally directed the march of the poems, will 
appear incredible to those who have critically 
considered what epic poetry is. 

So far from the Iliad being a collection or 
miscellany of ballads, composed at fits and starts 
by various minstrels, and then pieced together in 
ages afterwards, the fact is, that it is the only epic 
poem ever written of which the unity is perfect 
and complete, and in which it would be impossible 
to disturb the order of the several parts of the 
poem without marring the regular and connected 
sequence of the entire. The JEneid is quite dis- 
connected. The adventure of the first and fourth 
books has nothing to do with those of the re- 



6 HOMERIC BALLADS. 

mainder; it does not unite with them, far less 
influence them. The fifth book is a clumsy inter- 
polation. Hardouin justly remarks, that the story 
of the sack of Troy, and the wanderings of iEneas, 
might have been as well told to Latinus or Evander 
as to Dido; and the funeral games better per- 
formed in honour of Pallas than of Anchises, who 
makes no appearance in the poem until he is dead. 
Milton well knew, though his commentators, 
including Addison, do not [Bentley, of course, ex- 
cepted; but he was otherwise employed, in his 
wonderful edition of Milton], that the epic charac- 
ter could not be sustained throughout Paradise 
Lost ; and, accordingly, he plainly tells us, in the 
ninth book, that he changes his notes to tragic. 
In the Iliad, on the contrary, the theme laid down 
is pursued, from beginning to end, with all the 
precision of a logical argument. The greatest 
warrior of the host assembled round Troy forsakes 
the cause in an excess of just anger. To shew 
that his presence is not indispensable towards suc- 
cess, the king of men determines on active opera- 
tions at once without him, and musters his army 
for the fight. All the accidents of war ensue — 
battles, charges, retreats, duels, truces. The first 
day's combat has been such, that the Greeks feel 
it necessary to call in the spade to the assistance 
of the sword ; and they intrench. Still more dis- 



INTRODUCTION. 7 

astrous is the second day's battle. Heaven de- 
clares decidedly against them ; and the victorious 
Hector bivouacs amid his watchfires in the field, 
waiting impatiently for morning to attack the 
hostile lines. Then is the indignant prophecy of 
Achilles remembered, that his arm would ere long 
be needed ; and his intrepid cousin, his aged tutor, 
and the most eloquent chieftain of the host, are 
sent with rich gifts to supplicate him to return: 
but in vain. The vicissitudes of warfare again fill 
the scene. We have a night adventure, which 
certainly is not necessary in the story; but an 
epic poem and a romance are two different things. 
The main theme of the Iliad is war, and every ac- 
cident of war should therein have a place. Among 
these, the employment of espionage and the sur- 
prise of an unguarded camp are prominent ; and, 
therefore, I pay no attention to the tradition al- 
ready noticed, that the Dolonia was inserted by 
Pisistratus. Then follow sallies from the intrench- 
ments, storming of walls, desperate defence of 
position after position, with gleams of success, 
followed by irretrievable defeat ; when the hero, 
moved by the tears of his friend, consents to allow 
his troops to rush to the rescue, but refuses to 
stir in person. For a time the rush is successful, 
and the assailants are driven back ; but the leader 
of the rescuing division is soon slain, and the rout 



8 HOMERIC BALLADS. 

is more hopeless than before. In triumph then 
rises before us Hector, radiant in gloriously won 
arms, the hero of his country, generous, true- 
hearted, noble, brave, about to receive, with swell- 
ing heart, the reward of a thousand valiant actions, 
by the prostrate subjugation and expulsion of the 
enemies of his land and lineage. His sword is 
raised to smite resistlessly, when upon the ears of 
his panic-stricken followers falls that battle-cry so 
fatally remembered which tells the appalling story 
that Achilles is in the field again. The rout is in- 
stantly checked ; and, in the morning, the furious 
and heart-broken warrior, reconciled to the king, 
and girt with armour forged by the god of Fire, 
sweeps raging to pitiless and indiscriminating 
slaughter. Ordinary war-adventures had been 
nearly exhausted; and now the immortals come 
down to the fight, and the River-god rises to do 
battle in vain with a man. All obstacles are 
speedily flung aside, and at last the closing hour 
arrives. Under the walls of Troy, hand to hand, 
and all alone, meet the two champions of their 
people in a single combat, which death only can 
conclude; and Hector falls. Then follow funeral 
games and funeral lamentations. Patroclus, and 
the chief who slew him, lie in a common death ; 
and the victor Achilles honours his fallen friend 
with all the pomp of martial chivalry, while amid 



INTRODUCTION. 9 

the vanquished habitants of the beleaguered city 
bursts forth the wailing of women over the corpse 
of Hector, the gallant and the good. 

If Pisistratus put this together, he is a far 
greater poet than any of the four and twenty 
ballad-mongers whose purpurei panni he gathered 
and joined. What is the ballad of the Bravery 
of Diomed, for example, compared to the poem of 
the Iliad ? Harmonious verse, stirring incident, 
picturesque description, profound thought, are to 

. be found in every page ; but the power of pro- 
ducing these, lofty as it is, falls far short of that 
mens divinior which can evolve such a work com- 

i plete and absolute in all its numbers, with the be- 
ginning, middle, and end so closely, and as it were 
mathematically,, linked together. Throughout the 
Iliad runs,, also, one vein of thought, which it would 
be impossible to expect from unconnected writers. 
The battle-bards, working separately, could hardly 

! be supposed to hold steadily in view a detestation 
of strife and quarrel, and yet that feeling strongly 
pervades the Iliad. Not only Nestor in the first 
book, and Phoenix in the ninth, — each in his several 
way deprecates anger, and counsels the suppression 
of revengeful feelings ; but even the hero himself 

; i breaks into a passionate execration of discord, 
praying that it might perish from amid gods and 
men, when he finds that the consequence of his 



10 HOMERIC BALLADS. 

own indulgence in wrath has been to stretch his 
brother in arms, the partner of his soul, in the gory 
dust. This moral follows from, not, as Bossu ab- 
surdly imagines, creates, the poem. But I am 
wasting my time. He who cannot see that the 
Iliad was written by the same hand, from begin- 
ning to end, is past the help of couching ; and I 
might as well attempt to describe the cartoons to 
a man in a state of physical blindness. Of the 
Odyssey I may speak hereafter. 

Vico says, ' Che percio i popoli Greci cotanto 
contesero della di lui (Omero) patria, e'l vollero 
quasi tutti lor cittadino ; perche essi popoli Greci 
furono quest Omero/ 

There may be in this sentence either sense or 
nonsense. Nonsense in all its altitudes, if it be in- 
tended to maintain that what is the popular fancy 
can be best expressed by the people ; or, as Vico 
phrases it, that the popoli Greci were Omero; for 
the contrary is the fact. It is the Omeri — the 
Homers — who ultimately lead, and make the popoli 
Greci. Sense, if it be intended to say that there is 
no Homer without the un-schoolmasterlike educa- 
tion of observation and memory. I should readily 
concede to Vico, or Wolf, that many a story is con- 
tained in the Homeric poems which their author 
had heard and embodied. ' To us/ he says, ' the 
glory — the report only — has come down. We 



INTRODUCTION". 11 

Jcnow nothing of it/ Thamyris, Demodocus, and 
other illustrious singers, are perpetually quoted. 
Nothing appears to me more absurd than the con- 
troversy about the reality of the events of the 
Iliad. It is highly probable that the tribes on the 
opposite coasts of the Archipelago had many a 
piratical war, ante Helenam, occasioned, in pretext, 
by the carrying off of a lady — in reality, by the 
pleasure of living a life of tumult and plunder. 
For Bryant and his school I feel no respect ; but 
•just as much as I do for those who made it a mat- 
'ter of orthodoxy to believe in the Trojan war. 

I am well aware of the theory of Herbert in his 
work called Nimrod, after the mighty hunter. In- 
genious it is, and supported by a world of talent 
and erudition; but I think Homer is to be read 
literally. Some actual war, which appeared to him 
remarkable, suggested the song. It having been 
so suggested, genius did the rest. The four and 
twenty minstrels I must again dismiss, and agree 

with Aristotle, that 6ecnT€crios av (j)av€LT] r/ Oji7]pos irapa tovs 

aXkovs (Poet xxiv.). Divine is Homer — [the one 

Homer] above all others. The same Aristotle, 
I who made for the use of Alexander the Great the 

most famous of the editions of Homer, thereby for 
| ever ennobling the office of editor, also declares 

that the poet surpasses all, not only in style (Xe'£«), 
I but in the intellectual faculty (piavoia), — not merely 



12 HOMERIC BALLADS. 

in the melody of versification and the choice of 
words, but in the philosophical arrangement and 
consideration of the course of his poems. And 
Aristotle was a man worthy of all the worship ever 
bestowed upon him even by the blindest of his de- 
votees. They might not have known why they 
worshipped him, and often assigned absurd or false 
reasons for their idolatry ; but they were not sub- 
stantially wrong when they bowed down before the 
ipse dixit. 

I have written more than I intended, and shall 
only say, that my own opinion is that the Iliad and 
Odyssey are, with no very important differences, as 
we now have them, the work of one man, who dwelt 
on the Asiatic side of the Archipelago, or in the 
islands — perhaps Scio. I do not believe that he 
was a beggar-man, or a singing man, or a blind 
man. I do not think his name was Homer ; and I 
look upon the derivations of that word which we 
find in the Greek scholiasts, men utterly ignorant 
of the principles of etymology, and the pedants 
who followed them, as mere trash. The meaning 
is to be sought elsewhere. I think he wrote or 
spoke his great poems as wholes, in Asia, and that 
they came over to Hellas piece by piece, after 
having filled the east with their fame ; and that by 
the great men of Athens, or Sparta, they were ga- 
thered, not in the sense of making them into poems, 



INTRODUCTION. 13 

but of re-making them. They were, both before 
their importation and afterwards, sung in scraps, no 
doubt, just as Shakespeare or Milton is quoted by 
us in scraps. We do not sing our great poets — 
the Greeks did; but ' To be or not to be?' or, 
1 Hail, holy light !' indicate to us fragments of 
Hamlet or Paradise Lost, just in the same way as 
the various ' headings ' of the pieces sung by the 
Rhapsodists indicated fragments of the Iliad and 
the Odyssey ; and it would be as wise to consider, as 
the original arranger of the Shakespearean or Mil- 
tonic poems in their present shape, the industrious 
compiler who should restore them from Readers, or 
Speakers, or Elegant Extracts, as to confer the 
honour of making the poems of Homer on Pisistra- 
tus. If Wolf had tried to make an epic poem out 
of the abundant ballads of his native land, he would 
have found how hard was the task assigned by him to 
the Athenian prince. It might not be unamusing to 
| prove, in the manner of Wolf, that there were some 
dozen of Sir Walter Scotts. On Vico's principle, 
| it would not be hard to do so. Sir Walter wove 
\ together the traditions of Scotland, and therefore 
the Scottish tribes furono questo Gualtero. 

But of this more than enough. I am about to 
split Homer again into the rhapsodical ballads, not 
from which he was made, but which were taken 
from him. I am sorry that Chapman, whose ver- 



14 HOMERIC BALLADS. 

sion must be considered the most Homeric ever 
attempted in our language, did not apply to the 
Odyssey the fourteen-syllable verse, which had suc- 
ceeded so well in the Iliad. There appears to me 
greater opportunity for its flowing use in the more 
discursive poem; and Chapman had by no means 
the same command of the ten-syllabic distich. I 
have, however, long considered it as certain that 
the only metre in which the Iliad and Odyssey, as 
whole poems, can be adequately translated into 
English is the Spenserian. 

iElian enumerates the principal favourites of the 
ancients. 

f/ Ort tc\ 'Ourjpov enrjiTpoTepov bLrjprjueva rjbov oi rraXaioi' 
olov eXeyov ttjv im 'Naval uaxrjv, kol AoXcqvlclv tlvcl, kol 'Apt- 
otclclv 'Ayauiuvovos, kcu Necoz/ KaTctXoyov, kol ttov TLarpoKkcLav, 
kcu Avrpa, kcu im TlciTpoKkcd * AflXa, kcu 'OpKttov d<fiavL(riv. 
Tavra vnep rrjs 'iXiabos. c Y7rep de rrjs erepas, ra iv TlvXco, 
kol tcl iv KaKebaiuovi, kcu KaXv\j/ovs avTpov, kcu rrepl tt)v 
2^eSiW 'AXklvov dwoXoyovs, KvkXcdttlclv, kcu NeKvlav, kol tcl 
rrjs KipKrjs, NiVrpa, MvrjcrTrjp&v tf>6vov, tcl iv aypcp, tcl iv 

AaipTov. — Lib. xlii. 14. 

6 The ancients sang the poems of Homer in 
detached portions. Such as the Battle at the 
Ships (Iliad, Book XIII.), the Adventure of Dolon 
(X.), the Bravery of Agamemnon (XL), the Cata- 
logue of the Ships (II.), the Adventure of Patroclus 
(XVL), the ransoming [of the body of Hector] 






INTRODUCTION. 15 

(XXIV.), the Games over Patroclus (XXIIL), the 

Breaking of the Oaths (IV.) : these from the Iliad. 

- From the other poem : The Adventures in Pylos 

< {Odyssey, Book III.), the Adventures in Lacedemon 

; (IV.), the Cave of Calypso (V.), the Raft [which 

Ulysses constructed to leave Calypso's island] (V.), 

] the Tales told to Alcinous (VIII.), the Adventures 

| with the Cyclops (IX.), the Visit to the Dead (XI.), 

I the Adventures with Circe (X.), the Bath [of Ulysses, 

when he was discovered by his nurse] (XIX.), the 

Slaying of the Suitors (XXII.), the Adventures in 

j the Country [with Eumaeus] (XIV.), the Visit to 

Laertes (XXIV.)/ 

Of these I have selected, as my commencing 
chaunt, the Niptra. My translation is accompanied 
by the original, side by side ; so that ' half of my 
page at least is good/ I have followed the ordi- 
narily received Greek text. 



I. 

THE BATH OF ODYSSEUS. 



ODYSSEY. Book XIX. 386-507. 



[Odysseus, in the disguise of a ragged beggar-man, has 
an interview with his wife, who does not recognise 
him. He tells her, as usual, a false story, 

tyevdea iroWd Xeyaiv eTvfxoicriv bfxoia' 

in which he represents himself as an acquaintance of 
her absent lord. She asks a description of his person, 
which he gives with much minuteness, and thereby 
convinces her of the truth of his assertion. She in- 
stantly extends the kindest hospitality to him, and 
orders Euryclea, his old nurse, to bathe his feet. The 
nurse complies the more willingly, as she is struck by 
the likeness of the poor stranger to Odysseus.] 



H. B. 



18 ODYSSEY. XIX. 386-395. 



T^PHYS 3e Xe'jM' e\e ira^avowvra, 

Tov 7ro<W e^aireviCev, vlwp $ e^e^ei/aro novXv 

^V^pOV' €7T€lTa $6 0€p/ULOV €Trr](pV<T€V. 



avrdp 'Ocucrcrevs 

'lfyv €7T €G"%ap6<plV, 7T0TI d€ GKOTOV €Tpa.7T6T 

AvTtKa yap Kara Ou/jlov oicraTo, fxr\ e Xaftovcra 
OvXrjv djuCppdaraaiTo, 



Kai a\x(paca epya yevotro. 
N/^e o ctjO acrcroy tot/era ava^ff eov' clvtikcl o 

kyvw 
OuXrjv, 



T7ju ttotg \kiv <rv$ rj\a(T€ XeuKw dldvri, 
Wapvf]<y6vo eXQovTct, /tier AvtoXvkov re, Kal 

Mrjrpos erj$ 7rarep eadXov, o$ dvOpcoirovs e/ce- 
/cacrTo 



THE BATH OF ODYSSEUS. 19 



A CALDRON" bright the old woman bore, 
To wash the stranger's feet; 
Of water cold she poured in store — 
Then, to temper the bath,' she filled it o'er 
With a stream of boiling heat. 

2 
By the fire Odysseus took his place; 

But he quickly turned him round 
In the darksome shadow to hide his face, 
) For he thought that his nurse's hand would trace 
The scar of an ancient wound. 

3 
And he feared that she might with outcry rash 

His presence there betray; 
And scarcely had she begun to wash, 
Ere she was aware of the grisly gash 

Above his knee that lay. 

4 
It was a wound from a wild boar's tooth, 

All on Parnassus' slope, 
Where he went to hunt in the days of his youth 
With his mother's sire, with whom, in sooth, 
In craft could no man cope. 

2-2 



20 ODYSSEY. XIX. 396-408. 



KXeirroav vr\ 9 op km re* 0eos $e oi avros %§(jqk€v, 
Epfxeias* rep yap ne^apiGfieva iirjpia Kcuev 

ApVfJOV TJO €pi<p(OV 6 C€ o\ 7Tp6(pp(Vl/ d/UL OTCYj^ei. 



AvToXvKO* eKdwV 'IQcLKYIS G$ TTIOVOL CY\fXOV 

Ylaica veov yeyacora Kiyj)GaTo Qvyarepos rj$* 
TW pa ol EvpvKXeia (piXois €7rl yovvacn QrjKev^ 
TLavofxevcp copTroio' 67ros t ecpar e/c t ovo/uafyv* 



" AvtoXvk ? avros vvv bvoju. ebpeo, ottl kg Orjai 
Ylaicos 7rawL (piXtp* TroXvaprjTos ce tol eariv" 



Triv 6 avr AvtoXvkos air a ineipeTo, (pcovrjaeu T€* 
" Ya/ufipos 6julo\ Ovyarrjp re 3 tl0€g0 ovojx , ottl 

K€V €L7T(i) 9 

UoXXolaiv yap €7^76 'oatssamenos too' Ikclvco, 
'Avdpdaiv rice yvvaitlv, dvd ^06va 7rovXvj3oTeipav 9 

Tw o' 'OAYSETS OVOfJL 6(TT(0 



THE BATH OF ODYSSEUS. 21 

5 
By Hermes' grace, with oaths and lies 

His fraudful game he played ; 
And the god, for the blazing sacrifice 
Of kids' and lambkins' savoury thighs, 

Lent him his ready aid. 

6 
From Parnassus erst on a journey 'gone, 

To Ithaca's isle he came; 
There he found that his daughter had borne a son, 
Whom they placed his grandsire's knees upon, 
As he sate at the board, his supper done, 

And they asked him the boy to name. 

7 
And thus spoke out Euryclea fair, 

The infant's nurse was she — 
' Autolycus, name thy daughter's heir, 
Whom thou long hast sought with many a prayer, 

Now lying upon thy knee.' 

! 8 

\' Daughter and son,' the old man said, 

4 What name I bestow, receive ; 
!As many a man, o'er earth wide-spread, 
Was odious to me when I hither sped, 

Be Odysseus the name I give^). 



22 ODYSSEY. XIX. 409-420. 



€7ru)vv(xov» avrap eywye 



U7T7roT ai> ^p^crae /nr}Tp<joiov €9 jtxeya cco/ma 
9 EX0rj Uapvrjcrdvo, 69 1 ttov jiioi KTrifxaT eaaiv^ 
Toov oi eyio cwaco, Kai juliv yaipovr a7ro7re|UL\|/cu." 



Tcov even: rjX9' * Oc uaevs, iva oi iropoi dyXad 

ctjopa. 
Tov ixev ap AvtoXvkos t€ kcu viees AvtoXvkoio 
Xepalv t f]CT7ra "(ovto, €7reaai tg ixeiXi^LOKTiv' 



Mr/Trjp o 'AfixCpiOer] /mrjTpos irepicpva 'OSuaij'i 
Kvaa apa fxiv K€<paXrjv re kol a/jL<pco (pdea /caXa. 



AvtoXvkos 6 viola iv 6/ce/cXeTo KvoaXijULOiaiv 
AeiTrvov ecpoTrXiGGaC to\ o orpuvovTos ixicovaav' 
Avtikcl S* eicrdyayov (iovv apaeva Trevraerripov' 



THE BATH OF ODYSSEUS. 23 

9 
By such a surname my grandson call; 

And when manhood's years shall come, 
Send him to visit the ample hall, 
Where his mother was born, in Parnassus tall, 
And there I shall give him share of all, 

And send him rejoicing home/ 

10 
Seeking these treasures rich and rare, 

Odysseus left his land; 
To Autolycus' castle he made repair, 
And his grandsire, and his uncles there, 

Hailed him with friendly hand. 

11 
And the heart of his mother's mother was blest 

With her dear grandson's sight; 
Closely she clasped him to her breast, 
And many a kiss on his cheek she prest, 

And on his eyes so bright. 

12 
Then Autolycus told his sons to spread 

A table for the feast; 
And willing they did as their father said, 
And a five-year- old steer was to slaughter led 

In honour of their guest. 



24 ODYSSEY. XIX. 421-432. 



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WiiGTvWov t ap €7riaTajU€i/ws^ ireipav t ofieXoi- 

(TLVy 



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119 tot€ fxev 7rpo7rav rj^xap e$ rjeAiov Karacvvra 
AaivvvT' ovce tl Ovjulos eoeuero ccutos eiarjs. 



'H/Uo? 6 rjeXois Kareov^ nal eirl Kve<pa$ rjXOev, 
Arj Tore KOL/urjaapro, kol vttvov doopov eXovro. 
'H/xos c rjpiyeveia (pavrj pooooaKTvXos Htos 
Bai/ p 'ifxev e9 9r)pY}V) rjikev kvvcs qce /ecu avrol 



Yl€€9 AvToXlJKOV' /UL€TCl TOICJI C€ C£09 OdUGG€US 

9 H'iev* alirv o opos irpocjefiav Karaetjuevou vXrf 
YlapvrjfTov' ra^a o 'inavov TtTvyas rjV€{Aoeacra$. 



THE BATH OF ODYSSEUS. 25 

13 
They flay off its hide, they dress the inside, 

They cut it up joint by joint ; 
With skill well tried, the flesh they divide, 
And, sliced into steaks, to the fire applied, 

Pierced on the toaster's point ( 2 ). 

14 
And when at the fire it was fully done, 

Due portions they gave to all; 
They sate at the meal until set of sun, 
And when they rose, complaint was there none 

Of the well-shared festival. 

15 
When the sun in night had hid his ray, 

They sank in slumber sound; 
Until the rose-fingered queen of day 
Sprang from the dawn where her birthplace lay, 

And wakened man and hound. 

16 
And all at once the chase pursued 

Grandson, and son, and sire; 
They climbed the mountain crowned with wood, 
And soon in the windswept lawns they stood, 

Whence Parnassus' heights aspire. 



26 ODYSSEY. XIX. 433-442. 



HeX(09 UL6V €7T€LTa veov irpoaefiaWev apovpas, 
E£ ctKaXappeiTao j3a6vppoov QKeavolo. 
01 o es firjdcrav 'itcavov eiraKTYjpes* 



irpo o ap auTcov 

' lyVl €p€UVtOVT€$ KVV6S r\LG(XV' CtVTCLp OTTIgQgV 

Yiees AvtoXvkov ' fxerd toigi ce cios 'Qcucraevs 
"Hi'ei/ ayx 1 KVV ^ v -> Kpaodwv coXi^dcrKiov 67^05. 



^EvOa 6 ap ev Xo^/urj irvKivrj /cctTe/cerro fieyas 

T^i/ /xev ap* ovt dvefxwv cidrj (xevos vypov 
aevrwv* 



Ovre fxiv 'HeXto? (paeOwv aKTicnv efiaWev, 
Ovt ofiflpos 7T€pdaaK6 $iafX7repes ' ws dpa 7rvKvrj 



THE BATH OF ODYSSEUS. 27 

17 
Uprose the sun from the deep, deep stream 

Of ocean's gentle swell, 
And the fields were warmed by his genial gleam, 
When the huntsmen, by light of the matin beam, 

Entered the woody dell. 

18 
First through the covert burst the pack, 

Fast following on the trace; 
Came the Autolyci at their back, 
Nor did they find Odysseus slack, 
With spear in hand, to join the attack, 
( Or urge along the chase. 

19 
There 'neath thick covering branches laid, 

A huge boar had his lair; 
So dense the foliage of that glade, 
No wind had ever pierced its shade, 

On moist wing wafted there. 

20 
There never in the midday heat 
Was the warm sunbeam seen; 
j So sheltered was that close retreat, 
That never did a rain-storm beat 
Athwart its leafy screen. 



28 ODYSSEY. XIX. 443-454. 

arap (pvXXcov everjv ^vcris rjXiQa 7roXXrj. 

ToV C avdptOV T€ KUVtoV T€ 7T€pl KTV7T0$ t]X06 
7TO0O?tV, 

12? €7rayovT€s eirrjaav' 

O CLVTIOS €K ^vX6^0i0 9 

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^rrj p avTwv a^eooOev' o c apa 7rpcoTiGTo$ 

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1 ouvo9 virep ttoXXov ce cir]<pvG€ GapKos ooovri 
AiKpKpls ai<~a$ 9 



OUO OGTGOV r iK6TO (pWTOS. 
ToV O 'OcVG€V$ OVTf]G6 TVyjJOV Kara C€<~lOV tojJLOV, 

'AvTLKpv ce cirjXQe (paeivov covpos clkookyj' 

ad €7T€G eV K0VL7]Gl fACLKtoV, CL7TO C GTCTCITO 

Ovixos. 



THE BATH OF ODYSSEUS. 29 

21 
And deep all round, the thick-strewn ground 

With leaves was covered o'er; 
But the trampling sound of man and hound, 
All bursting in with sudden bound, 

Aroused the couchant boar. 

22 
With bristling back, and eye of flame, 

In the brake he took his stand; 
To the onset first Odysseus came, 
Raising his spear with steady aim, 

Poised in his sinewy hand. 

23 
Ready he stood right valiantly; 

But, ere he had time to strike, 
The tusk of the boar, more prompt than he, 
Deep through his flesh, above the knee, 

Ripped with a stroke oblique. 

24 
Sharp was the wound, but it touched no bone ; 

Odysseus then made a thrust; 
Through the right shoulder his spear has gone, 
j Through the off side piercing its point has shone ; 
And the slaughtered beast, with bellowing moan, 

Sunk dead into the dust. 



30 ODYSSEY. XIX. 455-469. 

Toy fxev ap AvtoXvkov 7ra7oes (piXoi anKpeirevovTo' 
'QTeiXrjv C 'Oouarjos dfxviixovos, avriOeoio, 
Arjaav €7riGTajuL€vo$' €7raoiorj o af/xa KeXaivov 
"JLayedov* al\|/a $' 'lkovto (piXou 7rpo$ oftJ/xttra 
7raTj0O9. 

Toi> /Xey CtjO At/ToXf/COS T6 KClt UL€€$ AvToXvKOLO 

Ei) irjcra/uLevoi 

qc ayXaa ccopa 7ropovT€S 
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Eis 'WctKrjv' to) fxev pa Trarrjp Kal irorvia (JLrjrrjp 
Xcupov voarrjaavri 



Kal e^epeeivov e/ca<jTa, 
OvXyjv otti iraQoC o o apa G(hiGiv eu /caTeAe^ei/, 
"'Q? ikiv OrjpevovT eXaaev gv$ Xgvkw oSovri, 
UapvrjGovo kXQovra gvv uidcriv AvtoXvkoio. 



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Tyco p €iri[AaGGafiJL€vr], wdSa $e 7rpoer]K€ (pepeGOaC 
Ei; ce XefirjTi 7re<xe kv^ijlyi* Kavdyr\GG $e ya\Ko%, 
A\^ o erepwcr gkXl6i] % 



THE BATH OF ODYSSEUS. 31 

25 
The Autolyci looked to the boar that was slain, 

And their nephew's gash they bound. 
They stanched the black blood by a magic strain, 
And brought him home to their sire again, 

And they healed him of his wound. 

26 
With presents rich he was sent away, 

When his cure was all complete; 
Joyful they parted, both he and they, 
And to Ithaca's isle he bent his way, 

His parents glad to greet. 

27 
And much of his wound they wished to know, 

And its manner he did recount, 
How a white-tusked boar had dealt the blow, 
While hunting he chanced with his uncles to go, 

Upon Parnassus' mount. 

28 
Well was it known by that woman old, 

The instant she touched the scar; 
Down dropped his foot from her slackened hold, 
Upset was the laver, and over it roll'd, 

Clanging with brazen jar. 



32 ODYSSEY. XIX. 470-479. 

to 6 eirl ydovos € % € X V ^ v°<*>p' 
Tqv o cifxa yapixa kcli aXyos eXe (ppevcC too de 

oi ocrae 
AaKpvoCpL 7r\rj(r9ev' 



QaXepri 5e o\ ea^ero (pwvri. 
'A\j/aiuL€vr) ce yeveiov 'OSvacrfja irpocreenrev' 
U 'H fxdX' 'O^vaaevs eaaiy (p'ikov re/cos* 



ovce o~ eywye 
Upiv eyvwv, irpLV iravra clvclkt e/uov afji<pa<pa- 

a<r(9cu." 
H, kcu YleveXoireiav kaecpaKev 6(pdaXfxolcriv, 
Yleippa^eeiv eOeXovcra 



(piXov TTOcrtv evcov eovra. 
H 6 out auprjaai cvvclt avrirj oure voy\<jolC 
Trj yap 'AOrjvait] voov erpairGv' 



THE BATH OF ODYSSEUS. 33 

29 
All on the floor did the water pour. 

The old woman's heart beat high; 
With joy at once, and with sorrow sore, 
Her soul was filled, and, brimming o'er, 

Tears dimmed her aged eye. 

30 
And her voice in her throat was prisoned fast, 

But ere long the words outburst; 
Her suppliant hand to his chin she passed, 
And she said, ' Thou art he — I know thee at last— 

The darling boy I nurst! 

31 
I knew thee not, Odysseus, till 

Thy skin my hand had pressed/ 
Then where the queen was seated still 
Cast she her eyes, with eager will, 

To tell who was the guest — 

32 
To say that her husband, home returned, 

Now sate within her bower. 
But her looks Penelope nought discerned, 
For the thoughts of her mind elsewhere were turned, 
By Athene's watchful power. 

H. b. 3 



34 ODYSSEY. XIX. 479-490. 



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y 'H\u9ov €ikogtw erei es Trarpica ycuav. 



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E'/ J£ UTT* €(J.oly€ 06O5 OOLfAaGY] jULVrjGTf]pa? 

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hXKas 
A^eoas ei/ fxeyapoiaiv efxois Kreivcofxi yvvaiicas" 



THE BATH OF ODYSSEUS. 35 

33 
Odysseus checked her tongue's career; 

Her throat his right hand caught; 
Then with his left he drew her near, 
And ' Nurse/ said he, in tone severe, 

'Dost thou my ruin plot? 

34 
'Thou plot my ruin! by whose teat 

My infancy was fed; 
When homeward to my native seat, 
After twenty years of toil and sweat, 

My wandering course has led! 

35 
'Now, since to thee my coming here 

By a god's aid is known, 
Breathe it to none that I am near; 
For, mark me, with attentive ear, 

Threatening what shall be done — 

36 
'If, by Heaven's help, beneath me die 

The suitors whom I hate, 
Not even to thee, my nurse, shall I 
Yield quarter, while around me lie 
The handmaids, slain unpityingly, 
Within my palace gate.' 

3-2 



36 ODYSSEY. XIX. 491-507. 

Tov o avre 7rpocr€€L7r€ 7r€pi(ppwv TLvpvKXeia* 
"Tckvov e/ixov, iroiov ere e7ros (pvyev epKos ocovTcov; 
OlaOa fxev, olov ejixov /uevos e/ixTreoov ovo eiri- 

eiKTOV' 

f Ej£(o o\ cos ore Tts tjreperi \iQo$ tje cricrjpos. 

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Ar/ tot€ tol KCLTaXe^w evl fueyapoicri yvvaiKas^ 
i re a cLTi/uLa^ovcTi, Kai ai vrjAireis cicriv. 

Trjv o a7rajU6tj3o/U6^o5 wpoaefprj Trokv/uLrjTis 'Ooi/cr- 

tjevs* 
u Maia, Tiff oe cri) rets /uLvOqcreai; ovoe ti ere \pr\* 
Eu vv kcu clvtos eyco (ppaaofxcu kcli eiaofx eKaartjv ' 
AXX* e^e criyrj julvOov, eiTLTpe^/ov oe Oeolaiv" 

*Qs dp e(prj' yprjv's oe ci e/c fxeyapoio /3ej3}]K€i, 

Olcrojuevr] 7roodvi7rrpa' tg\ yap irporep ck^uto 

i 
TravTa. 

Avrdp eVei vi^rev re ical rfXei^rev XiV eXa/co, 

Auti$ dp* dcraorepa) 7rvpd$ e\Kero cieppov, 'Ocva- 

aevs 

QepcrdnevoS) ovXriv oe Kara patceecrori KaXv\j/ev. 



THE BATH OF ODYSSEUS. 37 

37 
Him answered thus Euryclea good: 

'What hast thou said, my son? 
Firm and inflexible of mood, 
I hold thy secret, unsubdued, 

As steel or solid stone. 

38 
But, heed my words. If Heaven should tame 

The suitors 'neath thy hand, 
Then throughout the household shall I name 
The handmaids who wrought disgrace and shame, 

And those who blameless stand/ 



'Needless, my nurse/ the king replied, 
* That this should to me be told ; 

They all shall be noted, and duly tried. 

As for the rest, let the gods provide: 
But do thou deep silence hold/ 

40 
She went to prepare the bath anew, 

For the first was spilt all round: 
He was bathed and anointed in manner due; 
To the fire then closer the stool he drew, 
And over his knee his rags he threw, 

In order to hide the wound. 



NOTES. 



Note (l). p. 21. 
Be Odysseus the name I give. 
I hate endeavoured to preserve the pun, if it be 
right to call it one, as well as I can. It is probable that 
the derivations of the Greek names of early times are to be 
sought in very different quarters from those to which we 
are referred by the grammarians; but, in the present 
case, Homer seems to be repeating some well-known 
story. There is nothing improbable in supposing that 
Autolycus might wish to mark his feelings at the time 01 
the birth of a grandson by the name he gave him. In- 
stances from the Scriptures will occur at once. The wife 
of Phineas, bringing forth a son amid the ruin of her 
house, called him Ichabod — * where is the glory' — in 
melancholy mark that he was born when prosperity had 
departed. So Leah and Rachel named their children; 
and, if we go further, so did Eve. I give the version of 
Chapman, as it affords a specimen of his manner, part 
translation, part comment : 

Daughter and son-in-law (said he), let then 
The name that I shall give him stand with men ; 
Since I arrived here, at the hour of pain, 
In which mine own kind entrails did sustain 
Moan for my daughter's yet unended throes : 
And when so many men's and women's woes 
In joint compassion met, of human birth, 
Brought forth t'attend the many feeding earth; 

Let Odysseus be his name, as one 

He is wrong, as his note also shews, in the meaning he 
affixes to oduo-cra/xevos. Autolycus had no sentimental 



THE BATH OF ODYSSEUS. 39 

fancies about him. He was full of hatred against many- 
men and women, whom I suppose he, with the assistance 
of Mercury, had cheated, and who had found him out; 
and he intended that his odium against mankind should be 
perpetuated in the name Odysseus. 

The second sigma in the participle o6Wo-a/zei>os, and 
the name 'Odvcro-evs, is a grammatical or prosodial inser- 
tion, in order to make the syllable long by position. 
'Odvacvs is often spelt with a single sigma, as in the above 
passage, v. 409, 416, 452, 456, and a hundred places be- 
side. Dunbar contends that it is useless, as the metrical 
ictus would make the syllable long without any alteration 
of spelling. But, as the complaint of Martial still holds 
good — 

Dicunt Earinon tamen posetse, 

Sed Graeci quibus est nihil negatum, 

Et quos apes apes decet sonare ; 

Nobis non licet essatam disertis, 

Qui musas colimus severiores — 

and we cannot be allowed to vary the quantity of our 
words ad libitum, I have chosen to spell the name always 
Odysseus, accenting, according to the English analogy, on 
the second syllable. I strongly recommend all translators 
of Greek poetry to take the Greek, not the Latin names. 
The Roman deities, Juno, Minerva, Mercurius, Vulcanus, 
Ceres, Mars, Venus, &c, are by no means mythologically 
identical with Here, Athene, Hermes, Hephsestos, Demeter, 
Ares, Aphrodite, &c. ; and, surely, the Greek words are at 
least as musical as the Latin. Aias is better than Ajax ; 
the Aiante, or, if the dual is not allowable in a translation, 
the Aiantes than the Ajaces, or the Ajaxes ; and Odysseus 
is as good as Ulysses. The late Greek tumults have 
familiarised us to the form. Jupiter (which is nothing 
but a different spelling of Zta-Trarrip) is perhaps the only 



40 NOTES ON 

exception I should admit ; and no English rhyme-maker 
can afford to part with Jove, whom, therefore, we must 
vote to be the same as the unmanageable Zeus. Of 
course, I do not recommend mere literal changes of forms 
to which we have been accustomed, such as substituting os 
for us, Menelaos for Menela^s, or at for ee (as Jineas for 
^EJneas), or to alter Priam, Hecuba, Alexander, Parnassus, 
and other such almost household words, closer to their 
original; but in all other cases. 



Note (2). p. 25. 
Pierced on the toaster's point. 

I hope I have translated this favourite culinary pas- 
sage correctly. It appears to me that the meat was toasted, 
not roasted. The animal was broken up, and the joints 
cut into steaks, which were stuck upon forks — five-pronged 
forks, as we are sometimes told — and held to the fire. 
The translation of this passage has been very tormenting 
to those who have set up in their own minds a different 
standard of epic taste from that which was erected by 
Homer. The last French translation I have seen, of 1812, 
thus daintily paraphrases the passage in the first book of 
the Iliad : — e On consacre les victimes, on les egorge, et 
le temple est inonde de leur sang. Les cuisses sont cou- 
pees ; le pretre lui-meme les fait bruler sur l'autel, et offre 
des libations. Deja Toffrande est consumee par le feu 
sacre, on fait cuire la chair des victimes, des tables sont 
dressees, le sacrificateur et les Grecs se rangent autour, 
et tous dans un commun repas goutent les douceurs de 
1'egaliteV 

This is a pleasant petit souper. I have never seen the 
first French translation of ' Homere poete Grec, et grant 



THE BATH OF ODYSSEUS. 41 

historiographe, by Maistre Jehan Samxon, licentie en loys, 
Lieutenant du Bailey de Touraine, en son siege de Chas- 
tillon sur Indre/ written, it is supposed, by order of 
Francis I., and printed, as we are duly informed, on the 
26th of September, 1530; but in that of Du Souhait, of 
1617, we have what I think is better than the nice trim- 
mings of the version of 1812 :— 'Les cuisses des victimes 
immolees estant totalement consumees, premierement on 
mit griller les trippes et les entrailles sur les charbons, les 
mangerent a leur desieune, les autres membres furent mis 
en pieces, et tranchez par morceaux les mettant a la 
broche, et les faisant rotir en diligence, puis, estant rotis, 
on les mit sur table pour la refection des assistans qui 
benvociant les uns aux autres pourtant des coupes/ 



II. 

SONG OF THE TROJAN HORSE. 

SUNG TO ULYSSES BY THE MINSTREL DEMODOCUS. 



ODYSSEY. Book VIII. 477-534. 



[Demodocus had, in the morning, sung a ballad of the 
contention between Achilles and Ulysses, an incident 
in that war, ' the glory of which had then reached the 
spacious heaven.' It produced a deep effect on the 
feelings of the unknown guest. He was obliged to 
cover his face with his garment, to conceal his bursting 
tears ; and, when the song was done, he wiped off the 
token of his sorrow, and made a reverential libation 
to the gods. Demodocus was again called upon to 
sing by the Phseacian nobles; and again Ulysses, 
anticipating that the theme would a second time be 
taken from those adventures in which he had borne so 
conspicuous a part, could not control his feelings. 
Alcinous, by whom he sate, perceived his agitation; 
and making the remark that they had enough of min- 
strelsy for the present, proposed that they should leave 
the table and commence the sports of the day. He 



44 HOMERIC BALLADS. 

rightly conjectured that something in the song had 
affected the stranger, though at first, with much deli- 
cacy, he does not even allude to it. After dinner, 
Ulysses, with that strange waywardness which all men 
have occasionally felt, cannot refrain from demanding 
another ballad on the Trojan war, deeply as the for- 
mer reference had shaken him. The effect is the same 
as before : he yields again to a passion of tears, excited 
by the memory of bygone days, and of companions 
in gallant actions scattered or slain. Alcinous now 
thinks it time that he should openly interfere. He 
has no further substitute to offer instead of the lay of 
Demodocus, and he plainly tells the company that the 
minstrel must cease because his song gives pain to the 
stranger. With the ease and kind-hearted refinement 
of a true gentleman—for such is the character ad- 
mirably supported by Alcinous — he calls upoli the 
unknown, whose skill and vigour in the games of the 
day had made a most favourable impression on prince 
and people, candidly to declare who he was, and why 
he is so grievously afflicted when he hears of the fate 
of the Argives and the Danai, and of Troy. ' It was 
the work of the gods,' says Homer, speaking through 
Alcinous, with the undoubting conviction that his own 
immortal poems would fulfil the prophecy, ' who doomed 
the men to destruction, that it might be matter of 
song to the people of future time. 9 So called upon, 
Ulysses discloses himself in a short speech of surpass- 



SONG OF THE TROJAN HORSE. 45 

ing grace and dignity, which serves as an exordium to 

a tale of the most wondrous beauty ever conceived by 

the human imagination — 

Speciosa dehinc miracula promit, 
Antiphaten, Scyllamque, et cum Cyclope Charybdim. 

Miracles they are, indeed, of enchanting verse, which, 
whether we take them as legends intended to be be- 
lieved literally, or as allegories veiling a hidden truth, 
captivate the fancy, arouse the intellect, and feed the 
eye with a long succession of ever- varying pictures, 
filling the mind with endless trains of thought and 
meditation. ] 



46 ODYSSEY. VIII. 477-490. 



" TZ" HPYH, rrj 017, tovto Trope Kpeas o(ppct 

(payrjaiv, 
ArjlxocoKw, kcli ijliv TrpuGTTTv^ofxaiy dyyvfAevos 

7T6|0. 

Uacri yap dv0pw7roicriv eiriydovioicriv doiool 
Tifxrjs ejUL/uLopoi eiai ical aloovs, ovveic apa or(pea$ 
O'Z/ua? Moi/cr* ec'ioa^e* (piXfjcre ce (pvXov dotccov." 
f Qs dp' e<pri' KYjpv^ ce (pepoov ev \epc\v eOrjicev 
''Hpw Atj^oooKa)' 



o ede^aro, \aipe ce Ovfxw. 
0\ o 67r ovelaO eroljua irpoKeifieva yeipa* 

iaXXov. 
Avrap eirei iroaio^ kcu eorjruos e^ epov evTO, 
Aff Tore Arj/uLodOKov Trpocrecpri TroXvfirjTis OoW- 

crevs 



a 

* 



ArjfxoooK^ 'e^oya oiq ce fiporcov alvl^ojuL diravT^v' 
H creye MoScr* eoica^e, A109 Tral?, q crey 

AttoXXwv. 
Aiy\v yap Kara kogiulov Ayaiiov oltov deiceis, 
Ucra ep^av t eirauov re Kai ocra eimoyqaap 

A^aioi-i 



SONG OF THE TROJAN HORSE. 47 



TTERE, herald/ he said, 'take this portion of 

-LJ- meat, 

And bear it from me, that the minstrel may eat ; 
Although sad is my heart, yet I gladly will give 
The honour that bards should from all men re- 
ceive ; 
For honour and reverence should ever belong 
To the loved of the Muses, the framers of song/ 
So spoke forth Odysseus— the herald obeyed, 
And his gift was at once by Demodocus laid. 



The minstrel received it, rejoicing in heart, 
Then the feast was begun, and they all took a part ; 
And when sated with meat and with wine was each 

guest, 
By Odysseus the singer again was addressed: 
* The lot of no other I honour as thine ; 
For the Muse taught thy lay, or Apollo divine ; 
Thy song of th' Achaeans tells truly and well, 
How they toiled in the wars, how they fought and 

they fell. 



48 ODYSSEY. VIII. 491-505. 



*Qgt€ 7tov i] civtos irapeoiv rj aXXou CLKOVtTClS. 
AXX* aye orj juerdfirjOt Kal *ranoY kosmon clgigov 

AoYPATEOY, TOP EtT6/09 €7TOlJ]G€V GVV AOfJVrj, 

' Ov 7tot es cLKpoTToXiv coXov ijyaye mos Ogug- 

aevs, 
'Avcpcov ewrXriGas, ol " IXiov e^aXaira^av. 
A'i Kev crj txoi Tavra Kara /uoipau KaraXe^rjs, 
Avtlk eyuo ttolglv jULvOrjcrojUiai avQpcoTToiGiv, 
Q9 apa toi 7rpo(ppu)v Oeos wiraGe Qggttiv aoioiqv" 



Qs (pad* ' 6 6 opfxrjOek 0€ov yp^ero, evolve o 
doicqv, 
y Ev9ev eXcov, cos ol jmev ei/crcreX/xeui/ enl vr]wv 
T&dvres direirXeiovi irvp ev kXigitigi paXovTes, 
"Apyeloi* tol o rjcrj ay atcXvrov dfi(p* 'QevGYJa 
EiaT evi Tpoocov ay op fj^ KeKaXv/uLfievoi iinrip* 
Avtoi yap juliv Tpwes es aKpoiroXiv epvGavro* 

129 o jmev €GTrjK€C toi o aKpira 7roAA ayopevov, 
e Hfievot aju<p avrov* 



SONG OF THE TROJAN HOUSE. 49 



One would think "mid those deeds that thou pre- 
sent hast been 

Or hast heard them from one who the combat had 
seen. 

Be the famed Horse of Wood now renowned in 
thy lays, 

Which Athene assisted Epeus to raise. 

How brought by Odysseus, with stratagem bold, 

It was placed, full of men, within Ilion's stronghold. 

This tale truly sing ; and my tongue shall maintain, 

O'er the earth, that a godhead has prompted thy 
strain/ 



The minstrel began as the godhead inspired, 
He sang how their tents the besiegers had fired, 
And over the sea in trim barks bent their course, 
While their chiefs with Odysseus were closed in 

the horse, 

Mid the Trojans, who had that fell engine of wood 
Dragged on, till in Troy's inmost turret it stood ; 
There long did they ponder in anxious debate, 
What to do with the steed, as around it they sate. 
H. b. 4 



50 ODYSSEY. VIII. 506-517. 



T P l X a ^ c(pL(Tiv rjvoave (iovXrjj 
He ciaTfirj^ai koiXov copy vrfXei ^clXkw 9 
' H Kara 7reTpdcov (iaXeeiv epvcrctVTas eir aKprjs, 
H eaq.v fxey ayaXfxa Oewv OeXnTfjpiov elvai' 
TrJ7T€p cv\ Kai €7reiTa TeXevrrjaeaOcu efieXXev. 
Aiaa yctp *l v onroXeaOai, eirrjv 7roXi$ afxcpi- 

KaXv^/rj 
Aovpareov /ueyav 'nnrov, 



OU 6LCLTO 7raVT€$ apiCTTOL 

Apyeiwv, Tptoeacri (povov kcli Kijpa (pepovres. 
9 WeiCGV c , a>$ clcttv Ci€7rpa9ov vies 'A^aicay, 

lwirodev eicyyixevoi, koiXov Xo^ov GKirpoXnrovres. 
9 AXXov o aXXrj a€L06 ttoXiv KepdlXefXGV anrriV 
Avrap 'Ocvcrarja Tcpori owfxaTa /\rj'i(poj3oio 
^rifxevai 



SONG OF THE TROJAN HORSE. 51 

5 
'Twas then that before them three counsels were 

laid, 
Into pieces to hew it by edge of the blade; 
Or to draw it forth thence to the brow of a rock, 
And downward to fling it with shivering shock; 
Or, shrined in the tower, let it there make abode, 
As an offering to ward off the wrath of the God. 
The last counsel prevailed, for the moment of 

doom, 
When the town held the horse, upon Ilion had 

come. 



6 
The Argives in ambush awaited the hour, 
When slaughter and death on their foes they 

should shower. 
When it came, from their hollow retreat rushing 

down, 
The sons of the Achaeans smote sorely the town. 
Then scattered, on blood and on ravaging bent, 
Through all parts of the city chance-guided they 

went, 
And he sang how Odysseus at once made his way 
To where the proud domes of Deiphobus lay. 

4—2 



52 ODYSSEY. VIII. 518-528. 



rj'vT 'Aprja aw avriQecp Mei/eXaw. 
Kei9i orj aivoTaTov iroXeixov (pctro ToXiJaqaavra^ 
Ni/cJJarcu kcu eireiTa, ma iieyaQvfxov AOrjvrjv. 
iavT ap aoicos aeice KepiKAvros avrap Ucva- 

G€V9 

T*//ceTo* catcpv o ecevev v7ro ($\€<papoicn Trapeids. 



f Qs ce yvvrj KXairjat, (piXov ttoglv d/uL<pi7recrovo~a 9 
f Oare e/79 irpoaOev ttoXios Xawv re irecrricnv, 
'AaTei /ecu T€K€€G(Tiv ctfxvvcov vrjXees rjnap* 

'H JUL6V TOV OvrjGKOVTCt KCU CtG7Taip0VT €GLOOVCra> 

Aficf) avrip yyjJLEvri Xiya KWKveC o\ ce t bwiaOev 
Kotttovtcs covpecrai fX6Ta<ppevov rjee kcli wjjlovs, 



SONG OF THE TROJAN HORSE. 53 

7 
With bold Menelaus he thitherward strode, 
In valour a peer of the war-loving god. 
There fierce was the fight, dread the deeds that 

were done, 
Till, aided by Pallas, the battle he won. 

So sang the rapt minstrel the blood-stirring tale, 
But the cheek of Odysseus waxed deathly and 

pale ; 
While the song warbled on of the days that 

were past, 
His eyelids were wet with the tears falling fast. 



8 
As wails the lorn bride, with her arms clasping 

round 
Her own beloved husband, laid low on the ground ; 
From the town, with his people, he sallied out 

brave, 
His country, his children, from insult to save. 
She sees his last gasping, life ready to part, 
And she flings herself on him, pressed close to her 

heart. 
Shrill she screams o'er the dying, while enemies 

near 
Beat her shoulders and back with the pitiless 

spear. 



54 ODYSSEY. VIII. 529-534. 



Eipepov eiaavayovai ttovov t eyefxev /ecu ol(vv % 

Trjs o e\eeivoT<xT(i) ayei (J)9lvv9ovctl trapeiai' 

*Q$ 'Ocvaevs eXeeivov vir 6<ppuai caKpvov eTj3ei\ 

''EvO' aXXovs jjl€V 7ravTa$ eXav9ave catcpva Xelficov, 

AXkivoos 06 fxiv olo$ €7T€(ppaaaT yjo evorjaev, 

''Hjulcvos <*yx o.vtov 9 fiapv oe areva^ovro^ 
>/ 

CLKOVGGV. 



SONG OF THE TROJAN HORSE. 55 

9 
They bear her away — as a slave she must go; 
For ever a victim of toil and of wo. 
Soon wastes her sad cheek with the traces of 

grief : 
Sad as hers shewed the face of famed Ithaca's 

chief. 
But none saw the tear-drops which fell from his 

eye, 
Save the king at the board who was seated 

close by; 
And Alcinous watched him, and noted alone, 
How deep from his breast came the heavy-sent 

groan. 



III. 

THE RETURN OF THE CHIEFS FROM TROY. 



rpHERE is, in my opinion — I do not pretend that 
J- it is good, as old Montaigne says, but it is mine 
— no test by which we can better decide whether a 
translator or critic understands Homer, than by 
his appreciation of the character of Nestor. I 
make no allusion to such criticisms as those of 
Scaliger, in his Poetics: 'Nestor in primo Hiados 
loquax; in septimo non minus; in quarto odiosus; 
in undecimo obtundit ; in penultimo etiam nugatur f 
for they are merely absurd. In the passages re- 
ferred to, the old soldier is introduced, with the 
most perfect propriety, to promote concord among 
his brother generals, or to stimulate his brother 
campaigners to action, by recitals of what had 
been done in former days by chiefs, whose memory 
all his hearers reverenced, and of whom he was 
now the sole surviving companion; or to display 
what were the true principles of tactics or chari- 
oteering, — war being the principal business, ath- 
letic games being the principal amusement, of the 
ages in which he flourished. In judging of those 



58 HOMERIC BALLADS. 

times, let it never be forgotten that there were no 
newspapers or histories ; and old men were obliged 
to perform the duty which is now performed by 
' the folio of four pages/ for our daily gossip ; and 
by the folio, quarto, octavo, or duodecimo, of many 
pages, for our more permanent leading or mislead- 
ing, as the case may occur. I shall not stop to 
discuss here the epical question, what proportion 
dialogue should hold towards action. Another op- 
portunity will occur; and the question does not 
particularly affect Nestor. 

Shaking off such critics as Scaliger, it may ap- 
pear unreasonable if I am not better satisfied with 
the opinion of the ancients themselves, whose know- 
ledge of the language was infinitely greater than 
any thing which the most eminent of modern scho- 
lars can pretend to possess, and whose qualifications 
for entering into the spirit of Homer's characters 
would, at first sight, appear to be far superior to 
ours. There could not be any difficulty in making 
a parade of extracts from Greek and Roman 
writers, to prove that they considered Nestor to be 
nothing more than an old speech-maker, or story- 
teller, whose perpetual talkativeness is to be ex- 
cused by his age and fluent sweetness of tongue. 
The often quoted passage of Cicero, in De Senec- 
tute, will be sufficient : ' Videtisne ut apud Home- 
rum ssepissime Nestor de virtutibus suis praedicat ? 



THE RETURN FROM TROY. 59 

Tertiam enim jam aetatem hominum videbat : nee 
erat verendum ne vera de se praedicans nimis vide- 
retur aut insolens aut loquax; etenim, ut ait Ho- 
merus, ex ejus lingua melle dulcior fluebat oratio.' 
Excuses of the same kind, for the loquacity of the 
old man eloquent, will be found in every commen- 
tator, from the days when criticism began, to those 
of the last edition. 

It appears to me that apologies were never 
more needlessly thrown away. Nestor, in the Iliad, 
is by no means the mere prater, for whose talking 
we are to find excuses. He is emphatically the 
advising officer of the army ; and he never shrinks 
from joining in the field the dashing movements he 
has recommended in council. Those who, in after 
ages, took up the Homeric characters, distorted 
them to caricature. Because Nestor was old, they 
made him a dotard — because Ajax was large, they 
made him a blockhead — because Achilles was resist- 
less in fair combat, they made him invulnerable — 
because Ulysses was wily, they made him a coward. 
They caught at the one prominent point in the 
character, and worked it out as second-hand story- 
tellers will do, keeping that point only in mind,, and 
adapting it to circumstances far different from those 
with which it was invested in the original. Let us, 
therefore, forgetting all that has been since written 
about Nestor, see what he does in Homer. 



60 HOMERIC BALLADS. 

A fierce dispute between Agamemnon and 
Achilles commences the Iliad. Their language 
gradually becomes more and more irritating: at 
last Achilles is tempted to draw upon his general. 
No one ventures to interfere, until the angry 
hero, flinging his staff of authority in a rage up- 
on the ground, sits down with a fierce menace 
that he shall no more lend his aid to the war. 
The quarrel of words has now come to its height, 
and Nestor jumps up at once to check its fur- 
ther progress — to dissuade Agamemnon from 
offering the threatened affront, and to induce 
Achilles to withdraw his threat of retiring. Both 
acknowledge the respect they owe to Nestor ; but 
both, being in a passion, decline acceding to his 
advice. The old man has offered it prematurely. 
Ulysses, the ttoKv^tls, does not jump up while the 
two chiefs are boiling with anger. We see him 
afterwards endeavouring to appease in due season. 
He bears the proposals of reconciliation in the 
ninth book : he it is who finally rivets it in the 
nineteenth. There is a fine discrimination of cha- 
racter between the impetuous old warrior, who has 
through a long life acted upon his impulses, and the 
wily observer, who has ' known the minds of many 
men,' and therefore takes his time. The attempt 
of Nestor to reconcile being fruitless, we hear 
nothing more of him during the remainder of the 



THE RETURN FROM TROY. 61 

book. The contrast between him and Ulysses, 
which is carried on throughout the Iliad, is here 
strongly marked at the outset. In spite of his age 
and eloquence, Nestor is not sent to take back 
Chryseis, to satisfy her father, and appease the god. 
That office is given to Ulysses. Nestor's single 
speech, in the first Iliad, is, in its kind, a model 
of perfection. I know that it has been subjected 
to the keen carping of Voltaire ; and I know, also, 
that the criticism of Voltaire, if it be intended for 
sincere criticism, is utterly worthless. His trans- 
lation of the speech is a mere mockery — a mockery 
the more inexcusable, as he has translated with 
much care, though not much fidelity, the speech 
of the Cacique Colocolo, from the Arancana of 
Ercilla, which he has the taste to prefer to that 
of Nestor. As his version is short, I shall, for the 
convenience of comparison, give it here with the 
original. 

Voltaire. 
Essais sur la Poesie Epique. Tom. x. p. 396. Ed, Kehl. 
Quelle satisfaction sera-ce aux Troyens, lorsqu'ils en- 
tendront parler de vos discordes ! 

Homer. H. A. 254. 
Q 7T07rot, rj jxiya irivBos \x aLl ^ a ycuw licdvei. 
H Kev yrjSrjcrai TLplajjios, Ilptd/xotd re Traldes, 
AAXoi re Tptues fxeya Kev KexapoiaTO 6vfAa, 
Et cr(f)cd'iv rdde Travra TrvBoiaro \iapva\iivoilv^ 
Ot 7T€p\ p.ev ftovkrjv Aavaoov, nepl 6' core paxeaSai. 



62 HOMERIC BALLADS. 

So far from this poor conversational prose be- 
ing a fair representation of the glowing original, it 
does not even express its sense. Nestor appeals to 
the angry chiefs, reminding them of the great grief 
they are spreading over their native land, and of 
the equally great joy it must diffuse, not merely 
among les Troyens, but among their rival princes, 
Priam and his house ; and thence downward among 
all the men of Troy. It will be of no common 
order — no mere satisfaction; deeply will they re- 
joice at heart, because they will be well able to 
appreciate the fatal consequences of a feud among 
men whom they have long felt to be supereminent 
in the council and the field. Never was compliment 
more naturally or more dexterously introduced; 
and, therefore, Voltaire omits it altogether. 

Voltaire. 

Votre jeunesse doit respecter mes annees et se sou- 
mettre a mes conseils. J'ai vu autrefois des heros supe- 
rieurs a vous. Non, mes yeux ne verront jamais des 
hommes semblables a Tin vincible Pirithous, au brave 
Cineus, au divin Thesee, &c. 

Homer. 

'AaAci irLOeo-ff' afjLtJHo de vecorepco iarbv i/ieto. 
*H§?7 yap ttot £ya> Kal dpeio(riv 9 rfiirep vfilv, 
\vbpacriv (DjjLikrjcra, /cat ovttot€ fx oiy ddepigov. 
Ov yap 7Tco tolovs 'idov avepas, ovde td&fiai, 



THE RETURN FROM TROY. 63 

Olov ILeiplBoov re, Apvavrd re, iroifxiva \aav, 
Kaivea r\ 'E^adtov re kcll avrldeov Tlokv^rjiiov, 
[QTjcrea r Alyeldrjv, eVtei/eeAoy aSavaTOicri'] 

This pretended translation is merely fraudulent. 
Voltaire had determined to represent the speech 
of Nestor as 'babil presomptueux, et impoli/ and 
suited his version accordingly. The Greek says, 
' Be persuaded — let me persuade you, because you 
both are younger than I am f the French, ' Your 
youth ought to respect my years/ In the original 
we have not a word claiming respect — not a word 
of authority ; it is all persuasion, the right of urging 
which is claimed on the ground of age — an advant- 
age which no one desires to dispute. c J'ai vu 
autrefois des heros superieurs a vous/ is nothing like 
the spirit of the Greek. Nestor wishes to remind 
them, that his many years have not been passed 
remote from the scenes of war. ' I have,' he says, 
6 campaigned with [©/i/A^o-a, not vu\ men braver even 
than you ' [ml dpeloo-iv r]€7rep rjixlv. Eustathius's read- 
ing, rjiiiv, is quite inadmissible. The archbishop 
contends, and Wolf agrees with him, that rjjxiv would 
be less offensive to the angry princes, and more in 
character. Just the contrary, Nestor could not 
be so absurd as to imagine that, at the time he was 
speaking, lie could be supposed to be a fit antago- 
nist for the glorious heroes of old. Nobody sup- 
posed it. Agamemnon and Achilles, in the pride 



64 HOMERIC BALLADS. 

and vigour of manhood and practised bravery, 
might have been thought compeers with Pirithous 
and the others whom he extols : Nestor now was 
out of the question. ' Braver than we ' is the real 
vanity. How we apples swim! * Braver than you 
— even you/ is a compliment], 'and they did not 
despise me ; i. e, they honoured me with the highest 
attention/ This is omitted, which is unfair. The 
omission indicated by the &c. is equally unfair, be- 
cause the suppressed passage gives the reason why 
the speaker sets the old warriors in higher price 
than those of his present time. They had fought 
with the most tremendous antagonists, the moun- 
tain-dwelling Centaurs, whom they utterly destroyed. 
None who heard the speech would refuse to admit, 
that those who succeeded in such desperate warfare 
were men whose names should ever be held in 
reverence, or accept them as authorities worthy of 
most deferential quotation. 

Voltaire. 

J'ai ete a la guerre avec eux, et quoique je fusse jeune, 
mon eloquence persuasive avait du pouvoir sur leurs esprits. 
lis ecoutaient Nestor : jeunes guerriers, ecoutez done les 
avis que vous donne ma vieillesse. 

Homer. 

Kttl [lev tol(tiv iya) ixeOopikeov in HvXov ikOdav 
TrjkoBev i£ ^ttltjs yairjs* KaXivavro yap avroi 



THE RETURN FROM TROY. 65 

Kai fiaxofJLTjv Kar €jjl avrbv iyco. kuvomti §' av ovtls 
Tav, ot vvv fipoTol elcriv linyBovioi^ fia^oLro, 
Kal fJLev fiev [BovXecQV ijvviev, 7T€l0ovt6 T€ fivda' 
*A\\a TTiBecrOe Kal vfxfxes, iirel TretOeaOac cifxeivov. 

Those who take the French to be a translation 
of the Greek, must consider old Nestor a ridiculous 
babbler indeed. But, as he does not say a word of 
his ' persuasive eloquence,' nor call Achilles and 
Agamemnon, after, at least, ten campaigns, 'jeunes 
gxierriers,' nor make tawdry epigrams about 'jeu- 
nesse ' and ' vieillesse,' we must confer that compli- 
ment on his critic. The heroes of past days, says 
Nestor, admitted me to their councils, and were 
persuaded by my advice. ' Be ye, too, persuaded 
by me ; for it is best to yield to persuasion/ TLiOeo-Se 
and TreWeadai should not be translated ' obey/ In 
the preceding line, he says the great men whose 
memory he holds in the highest honour, ireWovro — - 
tivOco. He could not intend to convey the idea that 
they obeyed him. < As they thought me worth listen- 
ing to, and as they adopted my suggestions, let me 
have the same power with you. It is best to listen 
to advice/ It is needless to point out, that all 
the picturesque graces of the original are omitted 
wholly in the translation. The three or four hasty 
lines in which Voltaire concludes are not worth 
quoting. He has designedly caricatured, or uninten- 
tionally mistaken the character of the old horseman 

h.b. 5 



66 HOMERIC BALLADS. 

of Pylos. Perhaps there is a sprinkling of both 
he might have both mistaken and misrepresented. 
Had it been Homer's task to have written a poem 
on the wars of the Ligne, he would not have written 
the Henriade. Is there a poem in the world in which 
so many fine situations, noble thoughts, and gallant 
characters, are lost? But that is no business of 
mine now. The Henriade decides as to the capa- 
bility of its verse maker to criticise the Iliad; and 
yet, to the end of his life, the witty, shrewd, inge- 
nious author of Candide saw not the ridicule of his 
position. He could be smart, and gay, and biting, 
against Freron, for daring to review Voltaire. He 
thought it a highly proper dispensation of Provi- 
dence that Voltaire was allowed to review Homer. 
He concludes by saying, that the Greek chiefs 
must have been displeased by the self-praise of 
Nestor on his wisdom, and the disparagement to 
which they were subjected by his extolment of the 
great men of old. There is no self-praise of Nestor 
in Homer , and we may, therefore, let that part of 
the objection pass. But the other objection is 
mean. Voltaire had written the Steele de Louis 
Quatorze. Would Turenne have felt any offence, 
if an officer, capable of expressing his sentiments, 
and giving a military or satifactory reason for his 
opinions, had commenced by telling the marshal 
that he had, some thirty years before, served under 






THE RETURN FROM TROY. 67 

Gustavus Adolphus, Bernhard of Sax Weimar, John 
Banner, and Leonard Tortensohn, men who were 
masters of war — kcu dpeloaiv ^ewep vfiiv — men who 
had beaten Count Tilly, and Pappenheim, and the 
Friedlander? Would Marlborough think that his 
head stood less high because he acknowledged the 
genius of his old commander, Turenne ? Or would 
Prince Eugene deem himself wronged by panegy- 
rical references to his friend in campaign after 
campaign, the duke ? I do not wish to go to exam- 
ples nearer nor more distant. But if I must look 
closer at home — I am out of the way of knowing 
who are the young gentlemen who at present call 
themselves soldiers, but I am sure they would not 
be angry if they were directed to look carefully 
over the peninsula campaigns for instruction ; and 
Nestor does no more. As for Ercilla, brought into 
this unfair contrast by Voltaire, it is sufficient to 
say that his poem is abundantly tedious, with a 
few good descriptive verses here and there. The 
speech of Colocolo is not to be compared to the 
speech of Nestor — for this plain reason, abating 
the inferiority of genius, that Ercilla was of a dif- 
ferent race from the speaker, and wrote as a 
stranger. Homer did not. 

In the second book of the Iliad, Jupiter, 
wishing to delude Agamemnon to fight, sends him 
a pernicious dream in the appearance of Nestor. 

5-2 



68 HOMEKIC BALLADS. 

The god naturally chooses that the counsellor of 
precipitate action should appear as the phantom 
of the ever-ready old warrior. On the assembly 
of the council, when the dream is related, Nestor 
at once confirms the advice of his shadowy repre- 
sentative, by calling for an instant arming. A sort 
of panic follows, the checking of which is left to 
the spirit and sagacity of Ulysses ; but the heart- 
rousing speech to the soldiery, summoning them 
to the field, regardless who may stay behind, 
threatening with death the coward who dares fly 
his banners, now that the war is once fairly joined 
— and recommending that every tribe should, in the 
approaching contest, be marshalled under its appro- 
priate standard, so that all might be stimulated to 
the utmost exertion under the eye of their own 
leaders and kindred [no' longer subjected to the 
single will of one overmastering mind, Achilles] — 
that speech, and heart- stirring it is, is spoken by 
Nestor in words of fire. 

In the third book we hear nothing of him ; but 
the silence is eloquent. Soon after the armies 
have joined, a duel between Paris and Menelaus is 
proposed, and a truce for the interim is concluded, 
with a direct agreement that it is to lead to a 
permanent termination of the war. Here is a 
work of peace. If Homer intended Nestor to be 
merely a talkative old man, what fitter opportu- 



THE RETURN FROM TROY. 69 

nity for the display of his ' persuasive eloquence' 
could be found ? Priam is brought forward ; and, 
from the Scsean gate, his daughter-in-law, Helen, 
points out the most remarkable persons of the 
Grecian host, Who could be considered to be 
more remarkable than the sweet-tongued Nestor, 
the eloquent orator of the Pylians, who had out- 
lived two generations of articulately speaking men, 
and was now ruling over the third ? What could 
be more natural than that Priam should have 
desired to look upon his coeval king ? But, no. 
Helen points out Agamemnon, Ajax, Ulysses, Ido- 
meneus— and says that she recognises many another 
dark-eyed Greek, whom she could name. There 
is no notice of Nestor. The treaties are carried 
forward with all the pomp and solemnity of sacri- 
fice; but old Nestor nowhere meets old Priam. 
Ulysses is chosen to attend the religious cere- 
monies, and to make preparations for the war- 
closing duel, as he had before been sent on a 
mission to prevent the contest altogether, by 
demanding the pacific restoration of Helen. So 
Antenor is carefully made to inform us in this very 
book. On such missions we never find Nestor 
engaged. He was no man of protocols. 

In the fourth book, the truce is broken ; and 
Nestor, invisible in time of peace, is then to be 
found at his post. Sulky we may conceive him to 



70 HOMERIC BALLADS. 

have been during the time when a chance existed 
for the war being concluded; but, now that it 
is again afoot, we find him i ready, ay ready for 
the field/ Idomeneus, who appears to be Homer's 
model of martinet duty, the Ajaces, always prompt 
to war, and Nestor, are the first to be in position 
for fight. Agamemnon, traversing the line, meets 
the old man arranging his troops according to the 
most approved tactics of the day ; and I venture 
to say, that Colonel Mitchell would not find much 
fault with his directions, though, perhaps, they do 
not tally with the regulation-book. Here, as usual, 
Ulysses is studiously placed in contrast. He does 
not stir until the general has ordered. Nestor is 
up at the first sound. When the melee fairly com- 
mences, we are called on to notice that the Pylian 
troops are first in action ; for it is Antilochus, the 
favourite son of the old man, who kills the first 
Trojan slain in the long battle-roll of the Iliad, 
This is not chance, as some commentators have 
imagined ; for the same idea prevails through the 
poem*. 



* Ex. gr. When Menelaus, whose death might have put an end 
to the war, is in danger, it is Antilochus who comes to his assistance. 
"When Patroclus falls, he guards his dead body, in desperate battle, 
until he is specially sent to inform Achilles. Thrasymedes is first to 
guard the trenches. We find him with his father's golden shield, 
in the most desperate crisis of the action. Nestor himself, as I have 
said above, is every where. This is not chance. 



THE RETURN FROM TROY. 71 

In the fifth book, Diomed has it all to himself; 
but in the sixth we have the fierce voice of Nestor 
shouting for blood and spoil, and urging an onward 
charge. Shortly afterwards, in the seventh, it is 
his to reprove the reluctance of the Grecian chiefs 
to meet Hector. What can be finer than his 
speech, in spite of the prosing criticism to which it 
has been subjected ? In substance, it is no more 
than that he regrets he is no longer a match for 
the most vigorous warrior of the opposite army — 
that, in former times, he had fought and killed a 
far more tremendous antagonist ; but, as his day 
had passed, some more competent warrior should 
meet the defiance. His appeal is answered. There 
could have been no real want of courage on the 
part of the Grecian chiefs, but no one was anxious 
to put himself forward before the others. The 
voice of Nestor relieved the difficulty, by calling up 
all. It has been always noticed, that, of the nine 
who rise, the last is Ulysses. Perhaps it may be 
straining the contrast between the characters too 
much to say that, concluding, from the issue of 
the duel in the morning, and the general character 
of the war, that the contest now proposed would 
turn out to be of no ultimate importance, he 
declined to meddle with it, until it was necessary 
for his character as a man of the sword to come 
forward. The antagonist of Ereuthalion, the mace 



72 HOMERIC BALLADS. 

bearer, would, if he had been younger, have sprung 
to accept the challenge at the first word. 

Finding, however, that the Greeks have had 
the worst of the day, he recommends that they 
should entrench their fleet ; but this piece of 
military prudence [it was the best advice under 
the circumstances] does not prevent him from 
being in the thickest of the fight the next morning, 
outside the stockades. The scale preponderates in 
favour of Troy, and all fly the field but Nestor 
alone. True it is that he does not stay there 
from choice, but because one of his horses has 
been wounded and he cannot get off. But it 
is evident that he has been in the very heat of the 
battle, for his horse has been hit by Paris, the 
crack shot of the Trojans ; and it is equally evident 
that he is quite cool under the dangerous circum- 
stances of being left alone on the field against the 
on-sweep of a victorious army. He is disencum- 
bering himself of his horse, by cutting the traces 
with well-practised hand, when Diomed comes to 
the rescue. Ulysses will not return to a hopeless 
charge : but Nestor, without scruple, accepts the 
office of charioteer to Diomed in his rush against 
Hector. What a post he has volunteered to 
occupy, we may judge from the fact that the 
similar post under Hector, against whom he is 
driving with furious pace, has consigned charioteer 



THE RETURN FROM TROY. 73 

after charioteer to death. The flashing bolt of 
Jupiter comes between him and the enemy, and 
he retires, consoling Diomed with the reflection 
that they have done all that men could be called 
upon to do. Hector advances in triumph, and the 
first reward that he proposes for his exertions is 
the shield of the retreating Nestor, the glory of 
w r hich has reached heaven. 

In the ninth book, he is found at the council 
that recommends the mission to Achilles ; but 
Ulysses is the ambassador. More active in the 
tenth, he is ready to rise at the first call, and 
perform his duty of advising ; but again Ulysses is 
the person entrusted with the espionage. In the 
eleventh book he is in the bloodiest part of the 
fray, when Machaon is wounded, and he drives the 
Doctor out of the fight. What the merit of the 
medical practice may be, I do not know; but 
certain it is, that he sets down the son of iEscula- 
pius to something like a bowl of punch. As ' the 
wise physician ' makes no objection, we must sup- 
pose the treatment was excellent. It is, I think ? 
somewhat remarkable that Machaon should be 
silent. His skill is praised — his person is protected 
— his wound is taken care of— he is hospitably 
entertained ; but the Doctor does not say one 
word in this most loquacious of poems. I believe 



74 HOMERIC BALLADS. 

he is the only person, of the slightest importance, 
who holds his tongue. Is this accidental ? 

Linked close with the story of the poem is this 
incident. Achilles sees that Nestor has left the 
field, and suspects that the person with whom he 
has left it is Machaon. He is sure that the old 
man would not have abandoned the fight without 
the necessity of bringing off some one of import- 
ance. Hence comes the speech which Scaliger 
says ' obtundit,' but which, considered in relation 
to the poem and the character, is admirably in 
place; and, considered by itself, is a ballad of 
magnificent beauty. It fitly forms the connexion 
between the two parts of the Iliad, of which it is 
precisely the middle in point of place. Nestor has 
failed to reconcile the jarring chieftains, by his 
address, in their original quarrel ; but he succeeds 
at second hand in inflaming the followers of 
Achilles by tales of dashing warfare, contrasting 
shamefully with the inglorious ease in which the 
once-famed Myrmidons were lying, in consequence 
of the pique of their commander. His concluding 
appeal catches Patroclus, and the business is done. 
The Myrmidons from that moment are destined to 
fight, and Nestor and Machaon may quietly finish 
their Pramnian, until the sound of the approaching 
war calls the old man up. His fortifications have 



THE RETURN FROM TROY. 75 

been broken through — the tide of war rushes to 
the ships — something like a sauve qui pent is the 
order of the day — and he seizes his son's shield 
(his own being by that son borne in the brunt 
of battle) to exhort and bring forward the Greek 
chiefs, to aid their followers by example, if not by 
actual prowess. In the various vicissitudes of the 
fight we find him still ready — in its most desperate 
circumstance his prayer checks the last calamity — 
in the agony of flight he arrests the fugitives by 
passionate adjurations, and brings them back to the 
combat. When Achilles appears, we, of course, 
lose sight of Nestor : to Ulysses falls all the task 
of reconciliation, and no warrior must appear in 
the field after the avenger has come. The old 
soldier makes his final appearance in the Iliad, 
counselling his son how to win at a chariot race. 
Other duty he now had none. 

Every where he is in the foremost of the fight ; 
every where he counsels turbulent and prompt 
action ; every where he is as ready as Dalgetty for 
eating and drinking. When danger presses he is 
not profuse of words. His speeches, urging rapid 
advance, instant action, close combination, despe- 
rate clinging together in desperate circumstances, 
are brief and energetic. Where time serves, and a 
set oration is to be made, he makes one referring, 
without impertinence, to his own experiences, as 



76 HOMERIC BALLADS. 

guide for the action of others. Every body likes 
him ; his recollections of the friends of his youth, 
his feelings towards the sons of his age, are full of 
kindness. So introduced by the Iliad, we rejoice 
to find him in the Odyssey, safe returned from all 
perils — feasting away at the sea-side, girt by his 
sons and kindred — cheery and communicative, as 
in the war of Troy — kindly remembering old com- 
panions slain — wishing well to those who may sur- 
vive, but by no means much troubling himself about 
the various casualties of life — and ready to afford 
hospitable reception to all who ask it, be they true 
men or thieves. 

The Greeks more modern than Homer, but be- 
fore the downfal of their independence under the 
Romans, had no relish for this character. Their 
taste became of the town, townly ; and their Nes- 
tors were only wrangling old men in debating clubs. 
In the mightier state of Rome a Nestor could not 
appear at alL A gentleman between sixty and 
ninety must, if in any degree distinguished, have 
passed through the most eminent offices of the 
state, and retired to his place in the senate, or 
come forward in critical emergencies to lead great 
armies. The private soldier was discharged at 
five-and-forty ; and, if he had well-played his cards, 
was something like a common-councilman in a 
thriving municipium. The fighting, feasting, spoiling, 



THE RETURN FROM TROY. 77 

speechmaking, tumultuous old man, surrounded by 
his fighting sons, never occurred to their ordinary 
imagination. No doubt there were many such, of 
humbler degree, to be found in the armies of Mace- 
don and Rome. In the army of Alexander he must 
have seen many a gray-haired soldier, who had fol- 
lowed his father when they first emerged from their 
Macedonian fastnesses, and was now serving on the 
banks of the Euphrates. Alexander's men belong 
to history. Regular war had caught too much hold 
of the Roman imagination to allow them to make 
irregular warfare a favourite topic of poetry. Such 
war was always against themselves. In the ages 
which intervened between the decay of Latin litera- 
ture and the re-appearance of learning in Europe, 
we had Nestors in thousands. Need we go further 
than the progenitor of Queen Victoria, the Marquis 
Azo? But where was the bard? When letters 
returned, Homer was, of course, read or expounded 
only by the viri clarissimi atque doctissimi, who 
despised the knights and barons of their time [the 
compliment was liberally returned], and, immersed 
in grammars and lexicons, did not see the five hun- 
dred Iliads, with their full complement of Homeric 
heroes, going on before their eyes. To these 
critics, who, by the way, did not in general like 
Homer, old Nestor was a model of aged wisdom 
and aged feebleness. Dictys Cretensis or Dares 



78 HOMERIC BALLADS. 

Phrygius was as good authority as the Iliad, if not 
better. 

When the reign of what was called taste came, 
it was easy to conjecture what would be the fate of 
6 the old bore/ I have already analysed the criti- 
cism of Voltaire, and shall now look at Nestor, as 
given to us by Pope. From beginning to end it is 
a mistake. Pope planned him in his mind as a 
highly respectable gouty member of the House of 
Lords, rising with due deliberation to move an 
address or amendment. Pope's own 'Coningsby 
harangues' would be a fit preface to the style of 
oratory and manners he has designed for Nestor. 
His first appearance in Pope is this : — 

To calm their passions with the words of age, 
Slow from his seat uprose the Pylian sage, 
Experienced Nestor ; in persuasion skilled, 
Words sweet as honey from his lips distilled. 
Two generations now had passed away, 
Wise by his rules, and happy by his sway ; 
Two ages o'er his native realm he reigned, 
And now the example of the third remained. 
All viewed with awe the venerable man, 
Who thus with mild benevolence began : 
' What shame, what wo,' &c. 
All the words intruded here give a false idea. 
What wisdom the rules of Nestor, or what hap- 
piness his sway afforded the Pylians, — his merits 
in being the example of the third age over which 
he reigned, — the awe with which the venerable 



THE RETURN FROM TROY. 79 

man was beheld, and the mild benevolence of his 
speech ; for all this he is indebted to Pope. Ho- 
mer merely tells us, that * among them sprang up 
the sweet-tongued Nestor, the eloquent [perhaps 
shrill-voiced] speaker of the Pylians, from whose 
lips dropped words sweeter than honey. Two ge- 
nerations of articulate- speaking men, with whom he 
had been born and reared in lovely Pylos, had 
passed away, and he was now ruling as a king over 
the third. He thus wisely harangued them and 
addressed/ 

But the great blunder of the passage, because it 
is a blunder carried on throughout the whole cha- 
racter, is the translation of dvopovo-e — by i slow from 
his seat uprose the Pylian sage/ — a blunder the 
more inexcusable, because even the more ordinary 
commentators — Camerarius, for example — had es- 
pecially noted the impetus of the old chief. Up 
jumped, says Homer — Slow rose, says Pope. "Q tt6ttol\ 
(which is perhaps, 6 Good God !' but in all fair 
equivalence, — more like our own national exclama- 
tion) says Homer. * The venerable man with mild 
benevolence began/ says Pope. 

Pope is fond of addressing him by similar epi- 
thets. When he is first in the field to fight, we 
find him in the c reverend Nestor/ in the original, 
A. 293, it is plainly NeVrop' — ' Nestor thus his 
reverend figure reared/ mere iWoVa NeVrcop, I. 52. 



80 HOMERIC BALLADS. 

' Nestor, the sage protector of the Greeks' — noifxeua 
\acov, K. 73, — a phrase applied to every prince. 
While charging Hector himself, 

The reverend charioteer directs his course, 
And strains his aged arms to lash the horse. 

The reverend charioteer does no such thing : — 

Neorcop d iv ;^apeo-(U Xa/3' rjvia (riyaXoevra 
Mao-Ti£ev &* nrnovs, raya S* "iLKTOpos ay%i yevovro. 

There is no straining in the case : he whipped the 
horses, and they speedily came up to the best man 
of the opposing army. When the lightning of 
Jupiter drives them back, then, according to Pope, 

Nestor's trembling hands confessed his fright. 
Homer does not say so : 

NeoTopa S' €K yelpcov <j)vyev tjvla cnyakoevTa. 
There is no fright or trembling about him. He 
gives advice to retreat, as the will of heaven has 
declared against them ; but consoles his companion 
with the hope of better fortune on another occa- 
sion, and ridicules him for apprehending disgrace 
or taunt for yielding on the present. As usual in 
Pope, Diomed addresses him with the clerical 
epithet :— 

O reverend prince, Tydides thus replies, 
Thy years are awful, and thy words are wise ; 

which is a rather liberal expansion of 

liavTo. yepov, kqtci poipav €€i7ras' 



THE RETURN FROM TROY. 81 

He applies the title sometimes in a manner that is 
quite comic. When he is seated with Machaon 
over his cyceion*, 

The cordial beverage reverend Nestor shares ; 
just as if he was Thomson's parson — 'some doctor 
of tremendous paunch.' It would be in vain to seek 
his reverence in Homer. To make amends, I sup- 
pose, for the extra sanctity of character with which 
he has invested the old man, he makes him more 
cheery than the original: when he is disturbed over 
his cups. 

But not the genial feast nor flowing bowl 
Could charm the cares of Nestor's watchful soul. 
His startled ears the increasing cries attend. 

The Greek of all this is, — 

NeoTopa 5' ovk eXaBev la^rj, irlvovra Trep €fji7ri]s. &. 1. 

Pope has thrown in the genial feast, which was 
nothing more than honey, flour, and garlic k. He 
ought not, however, to have described him as be- 
ing startled, — for there is nothing to warrant the 
charge. Ovk e\a6ev lax?) signifies, by a common figure, 
Nestor attentively was listening to the battle all the 
time he was engaged in drinking. It never escaped 
his attention for a moment. 



* For the making of this mixture, see Coray on Theophrastus. 
It must have been strange drinking, if we perfectly understand what 
was the nature of its ingredients. 

H.B. 6 



82 HOMERIC BALLADS. 

If we are reminded that he is reverend over the 
bottle, our attention is called to his age on a still 
stranger occasion. 

The draught prescribed fair Hecamede prepares, 
Arsinous' daughter, graced with golden hairs, 
Whom to his aged arms, a royal slave, 
Greece, as the price of Nestor's wisdom, gave. 

A somewhat strange reward for wisdom. But why 
on such an occasion remind us — I am sure Heca- 
mede would not like to be so reminded — that 
Nestor's arms were aged. Homer commits no such 
mistake: he says, 

rjv ol 'Ax<uol 

e£e\ov A. 625. 

' whom the Greeks chose for him/ because he ex- 
celled the other chiefs, not in abstract wisdom, but 
in (BovXfj — in council. The prizes were distributed 
according to the merits of the officers with regard 
to the war. The commander-in-chief claimed the 
lion's share. Achilles obtained his, because, as he 
tells us, his hands had carried forward the most 
laborious duties of the field. A prize was therefore 
due to Nestor, whose head was engaged in forward- 
ing the general advantage as much as the hands of 
the warrior. 

When he is taunting the Grecian chiefs with 
their lack of courage in meeting Hector, Pope thus 
introduces him : 



THE RETURN FROM TROY. 83 

He from whose lips divine persuasion flows, 
Grave Nestor thus in graceful act arose. 

The divine persuasion consists in his telling them 
that their laggard reluctance will spread sorrow 
and disgrace over all their country, and make 
Peleus in particular [father of the chief whose 
absence inspired Hector with the daring to chal- 
lenge the rest of the Greeks, and, therefore, doubly 
grieved by the desertion of his son, and the disho- 
nourable shrinking of his brother princes] pray for 
death. His gravity is displayed in an account of a 
fierce battle he had fought with a gigantic cham- 
pion, wielding an army-crushing mace. That his 
act of rising was graceful we do not learn from 
Homer, and, from former circumstances, should 
rather conjecture it to be brusque. All that the 
Greek says is — 

Neorwp (f \pyeioKri avLcrraro kcll [AZTeenrev. 

Pope borrowed the phrase, 'in graceful act 
arose/ from Milton, who applies it to the rising of 
the wily Belial ; but Nestor had much more of the 
spirit of Moloch — so far, at least, as proclaiming 
* his voice to be all for war/ 

One couplet in the English poet well represents 
the original, and ought to have set Pope on the 
right scent — 

Old as I am, to age I scorn to yield, 
And daily mingle in the martial field. 

6-2 



84 HOMERIC BALLADS. 

Mijivafciv Trapa vqixri yepcov irep ea>v 7ro\€fx[(TTrjs, 

He feebly translates Nestor's fierce cry to the sol- 
diers in the sixth book — 

Old Nestor saw, and roused the warriors' rage : 
6 Thus, heroes, thus, the vigorous combat wage ; 
No son of Mars descend for servile gains 
To touch the booty while a foe remains. 
Behold yon glittering host, your future spoil — 
First gain the conquest, then reward the toil/ 

[Feebld, indeed, are the last lines, compared with 
the slaughter-breathing original — 

XXX* avdpas KTewodfiev, eireiTa kol ra e/^Xot 
NeKpovs apLirebtov crvkrjcreTe reSueiSras. 

6 On, boys! on! First let us kill them — then at 
your leisure, you may strip their dead bodies, 
stretched upon the field/ Kill, shouts Nestor — 
gain the conquest, quoth Pope. Plunder the dead, 
is the plain phrase of Homer — reward the toil, in- 
sinuates the same command in his translator. The 
fine change of persons in kt^iv^v and arvXrjo-eTe is 
quite lost in the English. c Let us — us altogether, 
princes and privates — fall on the enemy, and cut 
them down. That is the duty of all soldiers, no 
matter what may be their rank. Then you, my 
lads, may seize on the armour of the slain, accord- 
ing to the regular laws of war. With such an 
occupation I, Nestor, King of Pylos, cannot have 



THE RETURN FROM TROY. 85 

any thing to do. I shall join you in the charge, 
but my hands must not be engaged in the promis- 
cuous pillage of the dead/] 

Yet even in Pope's version of the passage, there 
is enough to mark the fire and energy of the man. 
Why, then, is he constantly, and without the slightest 
warrant from the original, called ' reverend/ ' vener- 
able/ ' grave/ * slow/ and so forth ? Why should 
we have a general impression forced upon us, that 
he is nothing but a perpetual prater, ordinarily 
prosing, often not far from drivelling ? He was, on 
the contrary, a fine, dashing, old fellow — trained 
from his youth to constant war, ready to recom- 
mend battle or foray, and as ready to join in it. 
Greece, when the art of criticism was let loose upon 
poetry, furnished no such character — there was no 
opportunity of his appearance amid the disciplined 
legionaries of Rome. In the days of their triumph, 
he was to be sought among Dacians and Thracians, 
Cimbri and Teutones, Germans and Gauls, and 
other irregular warriors. But to them Homer was 
unknown. When Rome fell, how could we expect 
that those who only understood his language, the 
wretched Byzantines, could understand his gallant 
characters ? The crusaders, on the contrary, who 
had among themselves many an Achilles and Ajax, 
and many a Nestor and Ulysses, could have well 
understood the characters ; but they had never 



86 HOMERIC BALLADS. 

heard of the poems in which they were depicted. 
The same is true of their bold Mahometan oppo- 
nents. When the Iliad and Odyssey came popularly 
among the nations of western Europe, diplomacy 
and politics had begun to exert their antiromantic 
influence ; and the Nestors confined themselves to 
church or cabinet, and wielded the pen, not the 
sword. Since scientific warfare has reduced the 
soldier first to an automaton and then to an atom % 
and the plan of fighting a la distance has been the 
order of the day, chivalrous feelings may continue 
to actuate the military bosom, but the chivalrous 
characters of old are gone ; and among them, most 
hopelessly, the character of Nestor. Yet even in 
our time, if Pope himself were to revive and write 
a poem on the last war, he would think it somewhat 
ridiculous to talk of the reverend Blucher, or to 
dwell upon the divine persuasion flowing from the 
lips of Wellington, as, rising in graceful act, he 
cried, < Up, guards, and at them I 9 

My critique is not dictated by the idle desire 
of disparaging so great a poet as Pope, who must 
ever shine among the most illustrious ornaments of 



* l If the old system attempted to reduce the soldier to a mere 
automaton, the new one reduced him to a mere atom; for its only 
discoverable principle, the only principle from which it never de- 
viated, was an utter disregard of human life and human suffering. 5 
Mitchell, Thoughts on Tactics, fyc, p. 4. 



THE RETURN FROM TROY. 87 

our literature. His translation of Homer is crowded 
with beauties of language and versification, and 
would be considered in every respect a most mag- 
nificent poem, if we had not the original. The mis- 
fortune is, that Pope formed his ideas of character 
from a system of society wide as the poles asunder 
from that in which Homer lived, and to which he 
referred his heroes. If we were to seek through 
the world's annals, we could not find a circle so re- 
markably artificial as that in which Pope delighted 
to dwell. A quenching of sentiment and generous 
feeling was there made a matter of boast. Sneer- 
ing was the litterateur philosophy : correctness, the 
litterateur taste. According to such codes were 
the heroes of Homer judged ; and Pope is not to 
be blamed for endeavouring to render them as pre- 
sentable at the court of Louis Quatorze as he 
could. It was his ill luck that his politics gave 
him a dislike to Marlborough, because there was 
many a captain, ' when our army was in Flanders/ 
whose criticism might have mended the fine-gentle- 
manism of the bard of Twickenham. The well- 
known epigram tells us, that 

After- ages will with wonder seek 
Who first translated Homer into Greek. 
Those after ages, when they arrive, will be con- 
siderably astonished at finding that the Greek 
translator has contrived to give us men consistent 



88 HOMERIC BALLADS. 

throughout in their actions, in place of those who, 
in his English original, are perceived to be perpetu- 
ally puzzling the reader between two classes of 
ideas ; sometimes endeavouring to represent the 
manners of the earliest dawn of human society, 
sometimes working hard to soften, or, at least, to 
alter the impression, so as to suit its most refined, 
or, perhaps, rather its most rotten phase of ex- 
istence. 

A hundred years ago, gout — taste — was pre- 
dominant ; and we could not call a spade, a spade, 
in any of the high or honourable departments of 
literature. Those who, in such departments, figured 
off as most tasty, were, when they dabbled in its 
most infamous dark corners, plain and explicit 
enough. Homer, clear in his meanings, straight- 
forward in his characters, honourable in all his 
sentiments, essentially anti-licentious in his lan- 
guage and the conduct of his poem, had no chance 
among the critics of the school of esprit. His de- 
fenders were not much better, for they excused 
him on the ground of the want of politeness of the 
age in which it was his misfortune to exist. Since 
that time we have had another school. We have 
found, that what chivalry inspired might be what 
the grammarians and men of gout rejected. So we 
got hack to Homer. The truly classical and the 
truly romantic are one. The moss-trooping Nestor 



THE RETURN FROM TROY. 89 

reappears in the moss-trooping heroes of Percy's 
reliques, and those whom those reliques inspired. 

An aged knight, to danger steeled, 

With many a moss-trooper came on ; 
And azure, in a golden field, 
The stars and crescent graced his shield, 

Without the bend of Murdieston. 
Wide lay his lands round Oakwood tower, 
And wide round haunted Castle-Ower: 
High over Borthwick's mountain flood 
His wood-embosomed mansion stood ; 
In the dark glen, so deep below, 
The herds of plundered England low, 
His bold retainers' daily food, 
And bought with danger, blows and blood. 
Marauding chief! his sole delight 
The moonlight raid, the morning fight : 
Not even the Flower of Yarrow's charms 
In youth might tame his rage for arms ; 
And still, in age, he spurn' d at rest, 
And still his brows the helmet press' d 
Albeit the blanched locks below 
Were white as Dinlay's spotless snow ; 
Five stately warriors drew the sword 

Before their father's band ; — 
A braver knight than Harden s lord 

Ne'er belted on a brand. 

This is from the Lay of the Last Minstrel. Fine 
as it is, the original description of Wat of Harden 
waving his helmet over his lyart hair, in the contem- 
poraneous ballad, is still more graphic ; and, there- 



90 HOMERIC BALLADS. 

fore, without going into minute particulars, more 
Nestorian and Homeric. 

My preface is already too long for a short 
ballad. I hope I have succeeded in suggesting 
a view of the character of old Nestor, somewhat 
different from what is usually entertained. I can- 
not conclude, however, without remarking, that a 
careful consideration of the tasks continuously as- 
signed to Nestor and Ulysses throughout the Iliad 
will help to dispel the absurd idea that it could 
have been written by more hands than one. 



THE RETURN OF THE CHIEFS 
FROM TROY. 



ODYSSEY. Book III. 66-200. 



[Telemachus, accompanied by Minerva, in the appearance 
of Mentor, seeking intelligence of his father, arrives at 
Pylos. There they* are hospitably entertained by 
Nestor, whom they find at a feast.] 



92 ODYSSEY. III. 66-76. 






AAINYNT' epiKvSea ScTira. 
AvTap errei irocrios teat €cv]tuo$ €c €pov evTo, 



Tois apa nxvQiov ?ipx € Veprjvios \7nr0ra Nearwp' 
NJJi/ or} KaXXiov ecrri ixeTaXXrjcrai /caJ epecrOai 
aeivovs olrives eiaiv, eirel TapTrv\aav ecajoj/9. 



'Q £e*Vot, Tives eo"Te( 2 ); iroQev TrXelO* vypa /ce- 

XevOa ; 
' H tl Kara 7rprj%iv rj /xa\|/*o/a)S aXaXrjaOe, 



"Ola T€ Xrji<jTYJpe§) vireip aXa, tolt aXocovrat 
^f^a? irapQeixevoh kclkov aXXooctTcoiGi (pepovres;" 



ToV 6 av T^XeVaX 09 7T€7rvv[xevo$ avriov tjvca 
Qaporqaas* clvtyj yap evl (ppecrl Oapcros A9rjvr} 



THE RETURN FROM TROY. 93 



[HHHE tables were set where the salt-sea shore 

J- Was washed by the flowing brine,] 
And all the guests, when the feast was o'er, 
Were filled with meat and wine. 

Then the Knight ( l ) of Gerene said, <Tis fit 

That we should truly hear 
Who are the guests that among us sit, 

Since now they are full of cheer. 

S 
' Strangers, who are ye? whence, and why 

Sail ye along the sea? 
Do you your course as merchants ply, 

Or as roving wanderers free ? 

4 
'As pirates who over the waters spread, 

On desperate venture boune, 
Putting other men's lives in peril and dread, 

All careless of their own?' 

5 
Then Telemachus answered the chieftain old, 

With courage at his heart; 
For Athene herself a bearing bold 

Did to the youth impart, 



94 ODYSSEY. III. 77-88. 



f iva fxiv 7T€pt Trarpos airoiyofjievoio epoiro' 
[Ho iva fxiv K:\eos eaOXov ev av9p(j07roiaiv 

" Q NeciTOjO ISrjXrjiacrj, jueya kvoos Ayaiwv, 
JL'ipeai oinroQev eifxev' eyco ce fee toi KaraXe^co, 



" H/xet? e% 'WaKrjs Xirovrjiov eiXrjXovOjULev' 
Uprj^is o ijo ioirj, ov crjfiJLios, v\v ayopevco. 



" Ylarpos ejmov icXeos evpv fxerepyoiiai, r\v ttov 



CtKOVGto* 



Aiou Odtfcrcrijos Ta\acri<ppovo$ 9 ov irore (pacriu 
2i)»> (xol fxapvaiiGvov Tpwov ttoXiv e^aXaira^ai. 



"AXXovs pep yap TravTas, ogoi Tpcoalu 7roXe- 

YleuOofxeO , tj^l e/cacrro? awooXero Xvyp£> oXeOpw' 
Keivov o' av kclI oXeOpov direvOea 0tJK€ Kpoviwv. 



THE RETURN FROM TROY. 95 

6 
That he might ask for his absent sire, 

And win for himself high fame : 
' King Nestor/ said he, ' as thou dost inquire, 

Great pride of th' Achgean name, 
Our business and course, at thy desire, 

I tell thee whence we came. 



7 
'From Ithaca's land we hither steer, 

All under Neion's head; 
No public care has brought us here, 

But private feeling led. 

8 
'My father I seek, if his wide renown, 

I may find as I take my way; 
Odysseus the bold, to thee well known, 
Thy partner in war, till Ilion town 

Before ye in ruin lay. 

9 
< The fate of every chief beside 

Who fought at Troy is known; 
It is the will of Jove to hide 

His untold death alone. 



96 ODYSSEY. III. 89-99. 

" Ov yap T£9 ovvcltcli ca<pa e'nrefJLev, oinroff 
bXcoXev* 

LU Oy €7T f]7T€ipOV Ca\XY] CLVCpadl GV(TfX€V6€GGlV 9 

EtVe leal €V 7re\ay€i fxera Kvjmaaiv AitfpiTpiTYjs. 



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eOeXrjaOa 
Keivov Xvypov bXeOpov evicnreiv, el irov o7Tft)7ra9 

OcpOaXjULOLGl T€OL(Jll> 9 7] CtXXoU flvOoU CtKOVCTaS 

UXa^ofxevov ' irepi yap juliv 6i(vpov TeK6 fxr\TY\p. 



" M^ce tl fi a\c6fxevo% fxeiXiaaeo fxrjo eXealpwv, 
'AAA. ev julol KaraXe^ov birws rjvTrjaas OTrtoirrjs. 



" Aiaaoimai, eiiroTe toi ti Trarrjp epos, ea9Xo$ 

'0$VGG€V$) 

*H €7ro9 rje ti epyov vtzogtcls e^ereXeaaev 



THE RETURN FROM TROY. 97 

10 
'And how he fell can no man tell; 

We know not was he slain 
In fight on land by hostile hand, 

Or plunged beneath the main. 



11 
' And here I pray thee, at thy knee, 

To tell my sire's sad fate; 
What thou hast seen, or else to thee 

Did wayfarers' tongues relate: 
Because for sorrow marked was he, 

Even from his birth-hour's date. 



12 
'No pitying word, no tale to soothe, 

From thee do I require; 
I only pray thee tell me truth, 

If thou hast seen my sire. 



13 
[ I pray thee by his words well said, 

His deeds right bravely done ; 
By many a gallant promise made, 

And broken never a one. 

i 
H.B. 



98 ODYSSEY. III. 100-111. 



Ay/tup evL Tpcom'i 0Q1 7rdo")£€T€ TrrmxctT 'A^aioi* 
Twv vvv fixoi ULvrjcrai, kcli fxoi VYitxepres eviGTre.' 



Tov 6 rjiieifteT eireira Teprjvtos \inroTa NecrTcop* 

\1 <pl\ €7T€C M 6jUI/^0*a9 Ol^VOS, T\V €V €K€lV(t) 

Arjfut) aveTXrjjjiev fxevos aayeToi vies A^aLaiv 9 



*H iul€V bcrct gvv vrjualv eir rjepoeicea ttovtov 
YlXa^ojixevoi Kara Xrjio, owrj ap^etev A^iXXevs, 



'H5' ocra kcli 7repl dcrrv fxeya Hpidfxoio ai/a/cT09 
IS/lapvdfxeQ* ' evQa o eireiTa KarenTaOev oacxoi 

apiGToi * 
''Ev9a (lev A'/as kbitoh dprjioS) evOa o *A^iXX€vs f 

"Ev9a c€ UdrpoKXosi Oeocpiv jULrjcrTcop drd- I 

Xclvtos ' 
''Ev0a o ejmos (pcXos i/ios, d/ma uparepos ical 

AvriXoxos, 



THE RETURN FROM TROY. 99 

14 
6 Be the woes and toils which he and thou, 

And all the host went through 
In Troy's long war, remembered now, 

And tell me the story true/ 

15 
Answered Gerene's knight : ' Why call 

My memory back again 
To griefs, there destined to befal 

Achaea's tameless men? 

16 
'Whether their course o'er the dark blue sea 

Our wandering vessels sped, 
Scouring the coast for spoil and prey 

Where'er Achilles led; 

17 
' Or fighting around king Priam's hold, 

Proud Ilion's turrets high ; 
Brave Aias there in death lies cold, 

There does Achilles lie; 

18 
' There has Patroclus found his grave, 

In council sager none; 
There lies the" blameless and the brave, 
Antilochus, my son. 

7—2 



100 ODYSSEY. III. 112-124. 



7repi fiev Oeieiv Ta^i)? r]ce ya«X^ T ^ 9 — 

'AXAot T€ 7T0XX €7Tl TOlS 7rd9ofl€P KCCKd' Tl$ K€V 



eicelva 



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Ovd ei 7r6i/Ta6T69 'ye Kal e^aere? irapafx[[ivwv 
E<~epeoi$ oaa Kei9i irdOov kokcl c7oi A^aio'i' 



TJpiv kgv dvirjOeU gy\v waTpida yalav 'ikoio. 
Eii/aeres yap <j(piv /ca/ca pairrofxev afx(j)i6TrovTes 
UavToioicxi SoXoiai' 



f±6yi$ 6 ereXecrae Kpovifov. 
9 Ev9 ovTi$ Trore jhyJtlv ojuoicoOrj^evai ciVTrjv 
"HOeX', eVel /maXa ttoXXov evitca c7o$ 'Ocvacrevs 
TlavToioicri coXoiai, iraTrjp Teos' 

el ereov ye 
Kelvov enyovos ecraV aeftas /a ^X €l ^opowvra. 
Hroi yap fjLvQol ye eoiKores, 



THE RETURN FROM TROY. 101 

19 
6 My swift of foot, my bold of fight, 

My dear, dear boy, lies low; 
But living wight can ne'er recite 

Our endless tale of wo. 

20 
* Wert thou here to abide, for a twelvemonth's tide 

Told five or six times o'er, 
Question on question might still be tried 

Of the ills the Achaeans bore, 

21 
' Ere home thou wouldst sail, fatigued with the tale 

Of our nine years' constant toil 
While we wrought for our foemen grief and bale, 

With many a varied wile. 

22 
6 Till the weary siege, by Jove's high will, 

Was brought to an end at last: 
In warrior craft and wily skill 

No chief thy sire surpassed. 

23 
' If great Odysseus be thy sire — 

And as on thee I gaze 
Wondering, the likeness I admire 

Thy speech to his betrays. 



102 ODYSSEY. III. 125-133. 



ovoe ice (pairjs 
if Av^pa vewrepov woe eoiKora ixvOyo-aaOcu. 



Lvu rjroL eiws fiev eyw /ecu 010$ Uovacrevs 

Oyf > * > ~ ft; y »n us >/ > » > 

vre 7tot eiv ayoprj ci^ epa^oixev ovt evi 

/3ov\f] 9 



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(ZovXrj 
QpaXpixeQ\ Apyeioiaiv 07rws o^' aptara yevoiro. 



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Brjfji€v o ev prjeaai, 6e6$ $' €K€oaaaep 'Ayaiovs* 



KaJ tot€ orj 2*ev$ Xvypov evl (ppecrl /mrjoero 

VOCTTOV 

Apyeiois* €7rel ovti vorjixoves ovoe oiKaioi 
Ylavres ecrav' 



THE RETURN FROM TROY. 103 

24 
' Thou must be his. How else suppose 

That ever man so young, 
Could speak in accents like to those 

Of wise Odysseus' tongue? 

25 
'And he and I, in friendship bound, 

Often in council sate; 
Oft, 'mid the Greeks assembled round, 

We mingled in debate : 

26 
' We never differed, felt no jar, 

Our counsels still were one, 
Planning what should throughout the war 

Be best for the Argives done. 

27 
' But when o'erthrown was Priam's town, 

And we sought the ships again, 
Then the Achaean host, into discord thrown, 

Were scattered upon the main. 

28 
' Their home-return had Jove designed 

To fill with sorrow sad, 
To punish the men of reckless mind, 

And of feelings base and bad. 



104 ODYSSEY. III. 134-145. 



Tip G<p€U)V 7T0\e€S KCLKOV OLTOV €7T€G7TOV 9 

Mrjvios €% oXorjs r\auK(j07TWO9 6j3piiuL07rdTpr]$ 9 
' Ht epiv ATpeicrjai fX€T dfxCpoTepoiGiv eOrjKev. 



Teo oe KaXeacra/mevco dyopqv e? iravras !A^a«oi)s, 
Ma\|/, arap ov Kara kogixov, 69 rieXiov kclto.- 
cWra— 



Oi 6 rjXdov oivip j3e (3aprjoT€S vies 'Ayaiwv — ■ 
yivQov /jLvOeiaOrjv, tov elvetca Xa6v ayeipav. 



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NoGTOV jUilfXVt]GK€G6aL 67T €Vp6CL VCOTCl OaXcLGGrjS' 

Ovo 'AyafnefivovL irafxirav erivoave* (iovXero 

yap pa 
Aaov epvKaKeeiv, 

pi^ai 6* lepds eKaro/xjSas, 
'^9 top 'AOrjvairjs ceivov yoXov e^aKeGairo' 



THE RETURN FROM TROY. 105 

29 
' Through high-born Pallas' deadly ire 

Many an ill death died; 
For, 'twixt the Atridae of quarrel dire 

She had the source supplied. 

30 

* They assembled the host of the Argives all, 

And a rash hour they set; 
As the shades of night began to fall, 
The unruly soldiers met. 

31 
'For heavily laden they came with wine, 

And by both chiefs were told, 
In several speech, with what design 

Did they that meeting hold. 

32 
'And Sparta's king wished across the seas 

They should straight return again; 
But this counsel did not his brother please, 

Who would the host detain, 

33 

* Till they had made the offering due 

Of sacred hecatomb; 
By sacrifice hoping to subdue 
Athene's wrathful gloom. 



106 ODYSSEY. III. 146-154. 



N*77no9, ovce to rjcrj, b ov ireicreaQai hfxeWev. 
Ov yap t cu\jsa Oewv rpewerai poos aiev eovrwv. 



1 Qs Tft! (jlgv ^aKeirolaiv afieifiojuLeva) eweeaaiv 
f EaTaaav' o\ o avopovaav evKvqfxioes A^aioi 



I 



ci^a c€ Gipicriv i]vcave (iovKrj* 
Nf/cra nev aeaaixev, yake-ira (ppecrlv opixaivovres 
AXkrjXois* 67rl yap Zef? rjprve TtYifxa KaKoio. 



Hwuev oi fxev vea$ eXtcojixev els a\a olav, 
KrpaTa t evriOe/uLeaOa, fiaOv^couovs re yv- 



1 



THE RETURN FROM TROY. 107 

'Fool! that his vows were thrown away 
Unthanked — he should have known ; 

For the heart of the gods who live for aye 
Is not to changing prone. 

35 
6 Fierce were the angry words they spoke, 

These jarring brothers proud ; 
And the Achseans up from the meeting broke 

Rising in clamour loud. 

36 
'And as seemed best in each man's sight, 

Each different side he sought; 
And we lay down to rest that night 

With bitter and hostile thought; 
For Jove had willed that foul despite 

Should be to the Danaans wrought. 

37 
'And we launched our ships when the morning 
came, 
With our well won treasure stored; 
And many a fair, deep-girdled dame 
We took with us on board. 



108 ODYSSEY. III. 155-164. 






Hjniaees o apa Xaol eprjruovTo fxevovres 
Av0l irap 'ATpeicri Ayafieixvovi, TroifievL Xawv* 
VH/x£0T66? o ava($avT€<$ eXavvofxev* a\ oe fxaX' wkoi 
'EwXeov' ecrropecrev oe 6eo\ fxeyaK^Tea ttqvtqv. 



'Es Tevedov 6 eXOovres epe^ajuev Ipd deoicnv, 
Oi/caoe \etJL6voi* 



Zei)s O OV7T(t) fJLfJC€TO VCKTTOV 

2^€t\ios, 09 p epiv (JopaG KaKrjv ert oevrepov 
aims. 



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A/JKp 'OoVGYja aVCLKTGL COLL<ppOVa 9 7T0LKlX0jUr]TrjVy 

Ai>Ti$ 67r *Arpeiorj ' Ay a/me^vovi r\pa (pepovres. 






THE RETURN FROM TROY. 109 

38 
'And half of the men desired to stay, 

As Agamemnon bade; 
The other half we sailed away, 

And a rapid voyage we made. 
A god the vasty sea-deep spray 

Smooth as a plain had laid. 

39 
'When we had come to Tenedos* isle, 

We made our offerings there, — 
Hoping, now danger passed and toil, 

We soon should homeward bear. 

40 
'But Jove was sternly minded still 

To lengthen out our woes; 
And by his will of strife the ill 

Again among us rose. 

41 
i ' For some retraced again the seas, 

Plying back the labouring oar, 
' Thinking their ancient chief to please 

Whom they left on the Ilian shore; 
And, led by king Odysseus, these 

Sought the coast of Troy once more. 



110 ODYSSEY. III. 165-173. 



Avrap eyo) aw vrjvaiv aoWeaiv, ai poi eirovTo, 
<S>evyov, €7T6i yiyvooGKOv b crj /ca/ca fXYioero 

oaifiwv. 
Qevye ce Tvceos vlo$ Aprj'ios, copcre o eraipov^' 



0\j/€ ce crj /ULGTci vco'i tele £av6os Mei/e\ao9, 
Ev Aeafiw o eKiyev SoXi^ov irkoov op/ULaivovras' 



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Nrjcrov 67ri 'fyvpirjs, avTrju €7r apiGTep e^ovres, 



' H virevepOe Xioio, Trap rjve/moevTa NLifAavra. 
FlTeofxev ce 6eov (prjvai Tepas* 



THE RETURN FROM TROY. Ill 

42 
'But when I saw the evils dread 

Some angry power had planned, 
With the crowded galleys I there had led 

Beneath mine own command, 
Away I fled — away with me fled 

Bold Diomed and his band. 



43 
6 By Menelaus, at evening tide, 

We were in Lesbos joined ; 
While pondering how, through the waters wide, 

We best our path might find. 



44 
'Whether we should over Chios hold 

Our course, and toward Psyria go, 
Leaving Chios and all its headlands bold 

Under our larboard bow; 



45 
' Or under Chios, where Mimas' head 

Is swept by many a gale. 
To the gods for a guiding sign we prayed 

To point our course to sail. 



112 ODYSSEY. III. 174-181. 



avrap oy Yjixiv 



AeTge, kcu rjvcoyet 7T€\ayos fxeaov ei$ Rvpoiau 
Tl€(jlv€iv 9 o(ppa TayiGTa V7T6K KaKOTfjTa (pvyoifiev. 



"QpTO o ewe \iyv$ ovpos d^fxevai 9 a\ ce fxa\' 

WKCL 

l^Ovoevra KeXevOa cieSpa/mov' 



69 ce repaiGTov 
*$LvvvyjLai Karayovro* Uoaewdcwi ce Tavpoov 

TloW €7TC (JLfjp €0€/U€V, 



7T€\ayo$ fxeya /tier prjcravTe^* 
Terparov rj/uap erjv 9 or kv ' Apyei vrjas eiaas 
Tvceioea) erapoi Aio[xqceo$ l7r7rood/uoio 
tucrTaaav' 



THE RETURN FROM TROY. 113 

46 
'They gave the sign, and bade us steer 

Right over the sea across, 
Making Eubcea in full career, 

So shunning wreck and loss. 



47 
6 Shrill did the wind begin to blow, 

As through the fishy deep, 
Cleft by our vessel's rapid prow 

Onward our way we keep. 



48 __ 
6 Gersestus' haven by night we made, 

And the thigh of many a bull 
We there on Posidon's altar laid, 

Of grateful reverence full. 



49 
| Grateful that we a track so vast 
Safe crossed of the ocean blue ; 
And ere the fourth day was gone and passed 

Came Argos' towers in view, 
And Diomed's men his ships at last 
Into his harbour drew. 

h.b. 8 



114 



ODYSSEY. III. 182-189. 



avrap eycoye YlvXovc? e^ov' ov$e ttot ecrfirj 
Ovpos, eireict} irpwra deos TrpoerjKev arjvm* 



'Qs rfkQoV) (plXe T6KVOV, airevOris' ovce tl olca, 
Keivcov oi t eaawOev A^aiwv oi t cittoXovto. 



''Oacra o kvl jmeyapoiai KaOriiievos YifxsTepoKjiv 
YlevQofxat) r\ Oe^is earl, carjaeai ovce ce kgvgw. 



Ei) ixev MfjOjuidoi/a? (peter eXOefxev ey^eaijuwpov^, 
0^9 ay 'A^tXX^o? fxeyaOufiou (paicifxos v\o$' 



THE RETURN FROM TROY. 115 

50 
6 1 held on to Pylos, mine own abode, 

And never nagged the gale 
From the hour that it was the will of the God 

That it should fill my sail. 



51 
' So came I hither knowing naught, 

Which of the Achaean host 
Were back, my son, in safety brought, 

And which of them were lost. 



52 

* But what, since I have dwelt at home, 
Hath chanced to reach my ear, 

Of all my old companions' doom, 
'Tis fit that thou shouldst hear. 



53 
'Well did the spear-famed Myrmidon 

Homeward return, 'tis said, 
Beneath Achilles' glorious son, 
Back to his country led. 

8- 



116 ODYSSEY. III. 190-200. 



Ei) ce <£>ikoKTrjTr]V. Yloiavriov dyXadv v\6v' 
Tlavras o 'Icofxevevs Kp^rrjv eiGrjy ay eraipovs, 

O? (J)VyOV €K TTOkejULOV) 7TOVTO? 06 Ol OVTIV 

cnrrjvpa. 



ATpeicrjv ce Kal avroi drcovere v6o~<fiiv edvres, 
f Qs t rjX9 w$ t A'lyiaOos e/jifjaaTo \uypov 
oXeOpov. 

AW lf]TOl K6LV09 fJL€V 67riGIJLVy6pU)S CLTTeTlGev. 



e Q? dyaQov teal Traica KaTCMpOc/uievoio XiirecxOai 
'Avcpds' eirei ml kcIvos ericraro 7rarpo(povrja, 
AiyurOov SoXofjirjTiv, os oi irarepa kXvtov eKra. 



Kal gv, (piXos — jmaXa yap g opooj aaXov te 

/xeyav re — 
'AA/u/ao? e«JO", iva tls G€ tcai o^j/iyovcov ev envy" 



THE RETURN FROM TROY. 117 

54 
'Well, also, Pceas' ancient seat 
" Did Philoctetes gain ; 
Well did Idomeneus, of Crete, 

Bring back of his warrior train 
Those who chanced not death in fight to meet: 
None perished on the main. 

55 
' Though far offye may dwell, ye have heard men tell, 

How, by a hapless doom, 
King Agamemnon murdered fell, 

On his returning home; 
But upon false iEgisthus well 

Did fierce avenging come. 

56 
'For a slaughtered man it is always good 

A son to leave behind, 
As he this traitor, in the blood 
Of his noble father all imbued, 

Has to cruel death consigned. 

57 
'So thou, my son, whom I behold 

A handsome youth, and strong, 
Give, in thy bearing brave and bold, 

Matter for future song/ 



NOTES. 



Note (l). p. 93. 

Tlien the Knight of Gerene said, "Tisjit 

I know that this is not the etymological translation 
of InTroTa — but, under the circumstances of its being 
always applied to the perpetually horse-managing Nestor, 
I think I may take the word of chivalry. 



Note (2). p. 92. 

9 i2 f fivoi, rive s ecrre ; nodeu 7r\eiff vypa KeXevOa ; 

Now, gentle guests, the genial banquet o'er. — Pope. 



IV. 
THE CLOAK. 



ODYSSEY. Book XIV. 462-533. 



[There has been some difference of opinion as to the 
meaning of the epithet 7ro\vrpo7rov, applied to Ulysses 
in the first line of the Odyssey ; but I think, that those 
who consider his character as it is drawn in the poem, 
without referring to any other standard of morals than 
that proposed by Homer himself, cannot doubt that it 
is intended to signify * abounding in tricks or wiles/ 
The Latin versutus* is by no means an equivalent, and 



* Horace, it would appear, could not find a word for it ; for he 
sinks it in his translation : — 

Die mini, musa, virum, captae post tempora Trojae, 
Qui mores hominum multorum vidit et urbes. 
"Which is as bald and inadequate a version as can be well conceived. 
Horace, properly enough, left out ttoXvt pottos, when he confined 
the observation of Ulysses to merely seeing the customs and cities of 
the various nations through which he passed. Any man, or, as 
Savage Landor says, any dog, could have done the same. Kal voov 
eyvu) gives a very different idea. In the eighth book, Alcinous 
distinctly asks him, not merely for a description of the regions in 



120 HOMERIC BALLADS. 

I do not know any one English word which would give 
its full meaning. ' Tricksy/ or ' scheming/ convey 
ideas of low deceit, which dishonours those who prac- 
tise it. Homer, on the contrary, intended his epithet 
as a compliment. He intended it to describe a man of 
great mental sagacity and endless resources, deter- 
mined to obtain his purpose by whatever means he 



which his travels had lain, but for a critical account of their man- 
ners. 

!iAA' aye /aot roSe eure, koX arpe/ceco? KardKe^ov, 
"Ornrr] d.TreTrX.dyxOriS re, /cat dcrrivas i'/ceo x°*P a( > 
'A.vQp<jLir(ov' avTOv? re rroAeis r e5 i/aieTawcras* 
*H ixev ocrot x a ^- e7r0 ^ T6 Ka * ctypioi, ovSe CH/eaioi* 
Ol T€ <£iA6£eii/oi, fcal afiiv voos earl OeovStjs* 

Thus rendered by Pope : 

But say, through what waste regions hast thou strayed? 

What customs noted, and what coasts surveyed? 

Possessed by wild barbarians, fierce in arms, 

Or men whose bosom tender pity warms? 
It is odd enough that he chooses to translate TroXeTs — ev vaie- 
Tatocras, well -inhabited cities, by 'waste regions.' The second 
line is nearly a repetition of his translation of koll voov 'iyvui in the 
exordium : 

Wandering from clime to clime, observant strayed, 
Their manners noted, and their states surveyed. 

And this certainly gives the idea of observation, which Horace has 
omitted. In the last distich, barbarians, taken in its modern sense, 
represents the x a ^- e7ro * *«t aypioi of the original fairly enough; 
but there is nothing about their being 'fierce in arms.' Homer, as 
Thucydides has remarked, does not call foreign nations barbarians, 
as the Greeks of more modern times did. He calls the Carians 
(II. B. 867), indeed, (3ap(3apo<p(6voi, and particularly notices the 
girlish appearance and unseasonable dandyism of their king, 

Who, tricked with gold, and glittering on his car, 
Rode like a woman to the field of war. 



THE CLOAK. 121 

could use, perfectly regardless whether it was or was 
not necessary to employ fraud and falsehood. In the 
Iliad, where Ulysses is a distinguished general in a 
large army, little necessity exists for the employment 
of such talents in any other manner than in the ordi- 
nary stratagems of war ; but, even there, he kills Dolon 
most unscrupulously, after having obtained all his infor- 
mation, under an at least implied promise of quarter. 
In the Odyssey, where he is thrown altogether on his 
own resources, his polytropic powers are brought into 
full play ; and a more mendacious hero never figured 
in a great poem. He is the Scapin of epic poetry. 
He cannot achieve any thing without telling a lie; 
and, so far from this being considered a blemish, it is 
accounted as an honour. On landing in Ithaca, the 
first person he meets is Minerva, in the appearance of 
a handsome young shepherd, ' such as are the sons of 
kings ;' and he immediately proceeds, after learning 
where he is, to give her a false account of himself. 

OvS' by' dXt]6ea elire, ttuXlv <$' bye XoX^to fivdov, 
Aiel hvl (TT^dearcri voov iroXvKepdea vco/ulcov. 

With unembarrass'd readiness return'd 
Not truths, but figments to truth opposite; 
For guile, in him, stood never at a pause. 

Cowper. 

Minerva listens with patience while he tells her that he 
had fled from Crete in consequence of having killed 
Orsilochus, one of the sons of Idomeneus, which he 
describes in all the exactness of ' a lie with circum- 



122 HOMERIC BALLADS. 

stances/ She is infinitely delighted at this display of 
cleverness, instantly reveals herself, smiles graciously, 
pats him with her hand, and says — 

Kep^aXeos k eir\ Kal eiriKKoTros, os ae irapeXQoi 
*Ev TrdvTecrzn SoXoiari, Kal ei 0eos dvridcreie. 
S^e-rXie, Trot/aXo/i^Ta, SoXoov ar, ovk dp' e^ieXXes, 
Ou8' kv <rfj irep ktov yairj, Xij£eiv diranrdoctv, 
MvOoov tc kXoit'hjdv, oi toi TreSodev <f)iXoL eicriv; 

Who passes thee in artifice well -framed, 

And in imposture various, need shall find 

Of all his policy, although a god. 

Canst thou not cease, inventive as thou art 

And subtle, from the wiles which thou hast loved 

Since thou wast infant, and from tricks of speech 

Delusive, even in thy native land? 

Cowper. 

[SxeVXie, in this passage, is not infauste, as it is usually 
rendered, but indefatigabilis ; as where Diomed ad- 
dresses Nestor, when he is awaked by the old man 
going round the camp at midnight, ^x^tXlos ecro-i ye- 
paie. * Cowper, in the above-quoted translation, seems 



* T cannot agree with Ernesti on this passage : ' SxerXios ecral, 
nimium arduus es. Vim hujus vocis, non assecutse sunt versiones. 
Clark. Quare autem arduus ? <rxerXios est cerumnosus, exercitus, 
qui se nimis fatigat at que exercet laborious. Em.' A careful 
comparison of the passages in which the word occurs in Homer will 
shew that it is qui fatigari nequit — one that cannot be wearied out. 
In Johnson's lines on Charles XII. we have an unconscious para- 
phrase of the word — 

A frame of adamant, a soul of fire- 
No dangers fright him, and no labours tire. 



THE CLOAK. 123 

to have omitted it altogether.] She adds that it is no 
use for him to waste his abilities on the present occa- 
sion, as she is as ' wide awake' as himself. The follow- 
ing lines of flowing hexameter might be compressed 
into the less dignified phraseology of ' Fm Yorkshire 
too.' 

1AU' dye firjKeTL ravTa XeycSfxeda, eidores d/uLcfxa 
ULepde'' eirel <rv fikv ecrcrl ftpoTwv orf dpuJTOS dirdvTwv 
HovXfj Kal fivdoMTLV' eya> <$' ev irdai OeoTari 
Mrfrt re KXeofxai Kal KepSeariv* ov6e <rv y eyi/ws 
HaXXdff 'Adnvai-vv, Kovprjv Aios, {Jt€ tol alei 
'Ej/ iravTeccri, ttovokji irapi<jTa/xaL, qde (pvXdoraru) ; 

But, come, dismiss we these ingenious shifts 
From our discourse, in which we both excel; 
Tor thou of all men in expedients most 
Abound'st and eloquence, and I throughout 
All heav'n have praise for wisdom and for art. 
And know'st thou not thine Athenian aid, 
Pallas, Jove's daughter, who in all thy toils 
Assist thee and defend] 

Cowper. 

The favourite hero and the favourite goddess are here set 
up as models of deceit. It is quite characteristic to 
find Ulysses hard to be convinced that she is not hum- 
bugging (for that is the only word to express it), when 
she tells him that he is in Ithaca, and Minerva by no 
means offended at such a suspicion. As he commenced 
with a lying story to the goddess, so he proceeds impro- 
vising romances to every one he meets, varying the 
circumstances according to the persons he addresses. 



i 



124 HOMERIC BALLADS. 

He always describes* himself as a Cretan, Crete being 
the land of liars. ' One of themselves/ says St Paul 
to Titus, i. 12, * even a prophet (a poet) of their own, 
said, The Cretians are alway liars, evil beasts, slow 
bellies.' Kprjres del tyevvTai, k. t. A. In the passage 
of which I subjoin a translation, Ulysses merely wants 
a cloak to cover himself in a wet night, and even for 
that purpose he has recourse to a lie. By the prompt 
compliance of Eumseus with his request, it is evident 
that the swineherd would have given the cloak for the 
mere asking ; but it never would do, unless obtained 
by a stratagem of some sort. Lady Mary Wortley 
Montague (I believe) used to say of Pope [a great 
Homeric translator], that if he wanted a fire-screen, 
he would use diplomacy to get it ; and here Ulysses [a 
great Homeric hero] sets at work for the obtaining of a 
cloak the same resources as he had employed to win 
the ' topless towers of Ilion/ The minute touches 
thrown into his story — the precise description of the 
marshes where they lay, under the city wall, in a thick 
brake ^the north wind — the exact hour when he felt 



* As here to Minerva, N. 256 — to Eumseus, in £3. 199 : — 

'Ek fjiev KprjToioiv yeVos eD^ojouu et)peiaa>i\ 
'Avipos d<f)V€LoZo irafc. 

Know, then, I came 
From sacred Crete, and from a sire of fame. 

(which Eumaeus repeats to Telemachus, II. 63) — and in T. 172, to 
Penelope. 



THE CLOAK. 125 

the cold, &c, give the circumstantial lie a strong air of 
vraisemblance worthy of Defoe himself. The lapse of 
seven or eight and twenty centuries has not altered 
this feature in the Greek character; their favourite 
chiefs are still 7ro\vTpo7roi. Their leading heroes are 
Klephts : Hellenice, kKctttoI — thieves. The leading hero 
of the Odyssey is iniKkoTroSi thievishly disposed. Well 
might M. Roque exclaim that the modern Athenians 
are the same canaille as their ancestors in the days of 
Theniistocles*. Our English, or slang use of the word 
Greek, in the sense of cheat or blackleg, is remotely 
derived from the stratagems of Ulysses. 
As this incident of the cloak is a story of soldier trickery, 
I have ventured to attempt it in a jocular ballad mea- 
sure, which will be familiar to the readers of our old 
poetry, being, with a slight difference, that in which 
the adventure of Duke Philip of Burgundy and the 
drunken cobbler (the original of Sir Christopher Sly in 
the induction to the Taming of the Shrew) is told in 
Percy's Reliques, and other collections : 
sTow, as fame doth report, a young duke keeps his court, 
and tickles his fancy with frolicksome sport, &c. t] 



* Childe Harold, Canto II. 
f It is a difficult question to say what is the best metre in which 
he Greek hexameter should be rendered into English. In Bentley's 
own slashing style, he tells us : * Nam ut Latini omnia metrorum 
genera de Greeds acceperunt ; ita nostrates sua de Latinis. Quo 
magis est dolendum, atque indignandum jam a literis renatis pueros 
ingenuos ad dactylica, quod genus patria lingua non recipit, edis- 



126 HOMERIC BALLADS. 

cenda, ferula scuticaque cogi,' &c. He then proceeds to shew that 
the comic metres can be all adequately represented in English — that 
they are, in fact, the metres 'quae domi et in triviis inscientes ipsi 
[pueri] cantitant.' Among them that ' quod in epicis et heroicis 
jam diu apud nostrates regnum obtinet, ab iambico veterum senario 
profluxit ; necessitate linguae nostrae, quae tota monosyllabis scatens 
caesuram senarii raro admittet quinarius factus : 

Though dee'p, yet clea'r ] though ge'ntle, yet not dull. 
Without entering into the general question of the derivation of our 
metres, it is tolerably clear, as Bentley says, that the dactylic hexa- 
meter is not suitable to our language, and that what we have 
chosen as our heroic metre is not a representative of the heroic 
metre of Greece and Rome, but a truncated trimeter iambic. The 
anapaestic is, therefore, not a more alien measure than that of Pope 
or Sotheby. And, in fact, it comes somewhat closer, if we scan 
with the older grammarians, by isolating as it were the first syllable, 
and then proceeding by anapaests to the end — as, 

Qua'd — rupeddn — teputre'm — sonitu — quatit u'n — gula ca'mp—um. 
Removing the first and last syllables, and taking away an anapaest, 
we find our ordinary anapaestic metre — 

—rupead'n—te putrem— sonitu'— quatit u'n— 
is the same as, 

And the clans — at Cullo' — den are scat — ter'd in fight. 
The hexameter has, therefore, somewhat the same analogy to our 
anapaestic metre as Bentley has pointed out to exist between our 
heroic and the Senarian iambic. But it is of no consequence. I do 
not think my anapaests were liked, and therefore give them up. I 
hope my present attempt will find more favour. 



THE CLOAK. 



128 ODYSSEY. XIV. 462-476. 



K 



E KAY 01 vvp, TLv/uaie Kai aXXoi iravres 



eTaipoi, 

JLv^a/Aevos tl €7ro9 epeco' cilvog yap avoyyei 
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Kai 6 diraXov yeXaarai kcli t op^rjaaaOai avfJKev 
Ka'l TL 67TOS 7rpO€r]K€V 07T€p t appY\Tov ctfieivov. 



AXX 67T61 OVV TO 7Tp(VTOV (XVeKpayOV, OVK 67T£- 
K6VCTW. 

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Qs bO vwo Tpoirjv Xo^ov riyofiev apTvuavTes* 
'HyeiaOrjv o 'Oov&evs Te kciI At peicrjs Mei/eXao?, 

Tolcri o dfia TpiTos rjpyov eywv* avTol yap 
avooyov. 

'AXX* OT6 Of] p 'lKOjUL€Cr9a 7TOTI TTToXlV aiTTV T€ 

Ter^os, 
H/ueT? fxev wept aaTV kclto, pcoTrrjia ttvkvcl 
Av covciKas Kai eXos vtto Tevyeai irewTYjooTe^ 
KeifxeOa. vv% o ap eirriXQe KctKrj Bopeao 7rea6vTo$, 
TirjyvXis' avTap virepOe yjioov yeveT tjutc irdyyr^ 



THE CLOAK. 129 



NOW, Eumaeus, give ear, and my other friends 
near ; a tale somewhat vaunting I pray you 
to hear: 
For you know heady wine will the sagest incline, 

like a fool out of season, in singing to join ; 
Or unwisely to laugh, or to skip in a dance, and 
to say what were best left unspoken per- 
chance ( x ). 

But now 'tis too late, since to talk is my fate, for 
my tongue to keep back what it means to 
relate. 

Oh ! were I as young, and as fresh, and as strong, 
as when, under Troy, brother soldiers among, 

In ambush as captains were chosen to lie, 

Odysseus, and king Menelaus, and I. 

3 
They called me as third, and I came at the word, 

and reached the high walls that the citadel 

gird, 
Where under the town, we in armour lay down by 

a brake in the marshes with weeds overgrown ; 
The night came on sharp, bleak the north wind did 

blow, 
And frostily cold fell a thick shower of snow. 
H. b. 9 



130 ODYSSEY. XIV. 477-492. 



kclI craKeeacri irepirpeCpeTo KpvGTaXXos. 
Ev9 aXXoi 7ravT€s '^Xaivas G'xpv rjoe yiTtovas, 
Rvcov o evKrfkoi, aaKecriv eiXvjuevoi cojulovs' 
Avrap eyw ^Xalvav juev loov erapoicnv eXenrov 
A(ppaceco$, €7T€l ovk eCpajULrjv piywaejuLev €(A7rt]$' 



'AXX' €7TOfXriV GCIKOS OlOV €^(i)P KCU ^COJULCL <pa€LVOV. 

AXX ore crj Tpiya vvktos erjv 9 fxera o acrrpa 

Kal tot eywv Odvarja irpoGrjvocov eyyvs eovTa, 
' Ay kmv i vv^as* 6 o ap e/ufjiaTrews viraKovaev' 
" Aioyevh AaepTidcrj^ TroXvjjL^^av 'Ooucraed, 

OvTOl €TL XtoOlGl fl€T€(TGOJULai, 

atta /me ^eifia 
ActjJLvaTai' ov yap e^eo -^Xalvav* irapa /jl rj7ra<p€ 

caijuLiov 
Olo^ltcov 'ifxevaC vvv o ovkctl (pvKTa TreXoi/rcu." 
lis e(pa/urjv o o eneLTa voov a^eue tovo evi uufxw, 

0^9 6K€lVO$ €V}V /3ovX€V6fiJL€V TJ06 fJLa^EaQaL' 

tpOey^dfixevos o oXcyr] ottl jul6 7rpd$ fxvdov eeiwep' 



i 



THE CLOAK. 131 

4 

Soon with icicles hoar every shield was frozen o'er; 
but they who their cloaks and their body- 
clothes wore 

The night lightly passed, secure from the blast, 
asleep with their shields o'er their broad 
shoulders cast; 

But I, like a fool, had my cloak left behind, 

Not expecting to shake in so piercing a wind. 

5 
My buckler and zone, nothing more had I on ; but 

when the third part of the night-watch was 

gone, 
And the stars left the sky, with my elbow then I 

touched Odysseus, and spoke to him lying 

close by, — 
1 Noble son of Laertes, Odysseus the wise, 
I fear that alive I shall never arise. 

6 
* In this night so severe but one doublet I wear, 
deceived by a god ; and my cloak is not here ; 
And no way I see from destruction to flee/ But 

soon to relieve me a project had he. 
In combat or council still prompt was his head, 
And into my ear thus low-whispering he said: 

9-2 



132 ODYSSEY. XIV. 493-506. 



u S/'ya vvV) fxtjTi? aev A^atcov ixWos aKovcrrj. 
H /ecu €7r ay kwvos K€<pa\f]u (jyedev elire T6 

fxvOov' 
KXvre, (J)iXor 6e7os /ulol svwkviqv r\XQev bveipos. 
Airjv yap vy\Q>v ocas rjXOo/uiev' aXXa T(? sir] 



" Ei7re7y 'ArpeLOrj ' Ay a tie fivovi, Toifievi Xacov, 
EJ 7r\eova$ irapa vaixpiv eirorpweie veecrOcu" 
'Qs eCpctT* wpro o e^eira Ooas, ' Aiwpaifxovos 

vios, 
Kap7ra\i[jL(i)$ 9 airo oe ^Kalvav 6ero (pounKoeacrav, 
Biy oe 9eeiv ewl vrjas' eyco o evl elfxari Kelvov 
KeifjLrjv acnraaiix)?' (j)ae <De y^pv&oQpovos Ha^. 



*Q? vvv q/SwoijULi, /3ir] re fiioi e/jure^os citf. 
Aoirj K€is rts xXaivav ev\ araO/uolcn crvcpopficov 
' Afx(p6repov 9 (piXorrjri kcu aiooi (fxvros erjos* 
N5i/ oe (x arifxa^ovcji /ca/ca XP™ sfcaT ex ovra ' 



THE CLOAK. 133 

7 
€ Let none of the band this your need understand : 

keep silent/ Then, resting his head on his 

hand, 
< Friends and comrades of mine !' he exclaimed, ' as 

a sign, while I slept has come o'er me a 

dream all divine: 
It has warned me how far from the vessels we lie, 
And that some one should go for fresh force to 

apply. 

8 
' And his footsteps should lead, disclosing our need, 
to King Agamemnon, our chieftain, with speed.' 
Thoas rose as he spoke, flung off his red cloak, and, 
running, his way with the message he took ; 
While, wrapt in his garment, I pleasantly lay 
# Till the rise of the golden-throned queen of the 
day. 

9 
If I now were as young, and as fresh, and as 

strong, perhaps here in the stables you 

swineherds among 
Some a mantle would lend, as the act of a friend, or 

from the respect that on worth should attend: 
But small is the honour, I find, that is paid 
To one who, like me, is so meanly arrayed. 



134 ODYSSEY. XIV. 507-521. 



Toy o cnrajuLeifiojuevos 7rpoa€(pr]s, Eiz/xcue <xu- 

ficora' 
Q yepov, cuvos fxev toi a/uLVfiwv, bv KareXe^as, 
foe t* 7tco irapa [koipav gtco§ vYjKepoe? eenres 
Tcp ovt eaOrjTos ceuqaeai ovre Tev aXXov^ 
i2f eireoL^ uceTrjv TaAaireipiov avTictGavra, 



Nt'i/* aTctjO rjwdev ye rd ad panea cvo7raXi%ei$. 
Ov yap 7ro\Xal ^kalvai e7nnuoi/3oi re ^iTtoves 
EvOaoe evvvaOaC juia o olyj (pwrl e/cacrw. 
AvTcip €7rrjv eXOrjaiv OcvaGfjos (plXos 1/109, 
Avtos toi yXaivdv re yiT&vd re eijuara cwcrei, 



Ue/ny^/ei d, otttty] ae Kpacirj Ovfj.09 T€ neXevei. 
'Qs eiTTcov dvopovae' TiOei o apa oi irvpos eyyvs 
vvrjv, ev o oioov Te kcu cuycov cepfictT epaAAev. 
''Evff 'OcWei/s KareXeKT' eirl oe '^Xaivav (idXev 

avrcp 
YlvKvrjv Kal jULeyaArjv, tj o\ irapeKecnzeT dftoifids 



THE CLOAK. 135 

10 
Then, keeper of swine, this answer was thine: 

c The manner, old man, of thy story is fine, 
For there was not a word out of place or absurd : 

thy request shall be granted as soon as 

preferred. 
Not a cloak, or aught else, shalt thou want at my 

hand, 
That is fit for a beggar in need to demand; 

11 
• Till the night shall pass o'er — in the morning 

once more, thy rags must thou don, for we 

here have no store. 
Among cloaks to go range, or of doublets for 

change — had we more than one garment 

a-piece 'twould be strange. 
But when the dear son of Odysseus comes back, 
Of cloak or of doublet thou never wilt lack. 

12 

6 Those will he bestow, and send thee to go, wherever 
thy thoughts and thy wishes may flow/ 

He rose as he said, and laid out a bed — and sheep- 
skins and goats' by the fireside he spread ; 

And next, as Odysseus lay down upon these, 

He brought a large cloak which he kept for his 
ease. 



136 ODYSSEY. XIV. 522-533. 

' EvvvaOai, ore tls yeiixtov €K7rayXos bpoiro. 
' Q$ o ixev evff Oovaevs Koi/mrjaaTo, toi ce Trap 

avrov 
' Avcpes KoijutjaavTo verjviai' ovoe cvpcorrj 
' Hvdavev avroOi koltos vcov cltto Koifd.r\Qv\vai^ 
AW by ap €£co iwu a>7rXc^€To' ^cupe o Ooucr- 

f Otti pa 01 fiiorov TrepiKYjdeTo, voar<piv eovros. 



YlpvoTov ixev %i(po$ 6%u ire pi GTifiapdis fiaXer 
>/ 

(DfXOLS, 

Aficpi ce yXalvav eeaaar aXe^avenxov, judXa 

TTVKVrjV, 

^Av ce vaK.Y\v eXer aiyos £VTp6<p6o$> fxeyaXoio* 
EiXgto o o£vv cucovra, kvvcov aXKTrjpa /ecu dvcpdov. 
Brj o 'i/mevai K€t(vv 9 oOl irep o~v€$ apyiocovTes 
Uerpr) vtto yXaCpvprj evoov, Bopeco vir iwyrj. 



THE CLOAK. 137 

IS 
To cover his form, at approach of a storm: so 

there lay the hero all sheltered and warm — 
The young men close by in the couch came to lie, 

but Eumseus refusing to stay from the sty, 
Was girt to sleep out ; while Odysseus was glad 
That his herd in his absence such vigilance had. 

14 

His sharp sword around his strong shoulders he 
wound, and then his thick cloak, wind-de- 
fying, he bound; 

Next, he put on a coat made of skin of she-goat — 
of a she- goat well fed, and of size worthy 
note. 

And he took a sharp spear, with which he might 
weir the attack or of men or of dogs coming 
near; 

And to lie with the white-toothed porkers went 
forth, 

In a cave of the rock, safely screened from the 
north. 



NOTES. 



Note (l). p. 129. 

Or unwisely to laugh, or to skip in a dance, and to say what 
were best left unspoken perchance. 

I have translated this according to the comment of 
Athenseus, who is especially angry at the idea that Homer 
intended to abuse good liquor. He never, says the Deip- 
nosophist, could have been so ill-natured, and so ill-bred, 
as to censure people for singing, or laughing, or dancing. 
It must be allowed that, if he was an enemy to wine- 
bibbing, he has been much maligned in the world: 

Laudibus arguitur vini vinosus Homerus. 
If Athenseus maintains that he knew the difference be- 
tween iroa-oT-qs and noioTrjs too well, to fall into the error 
of condemning a thing absolutely which should be only 
condemned secundum quid, I cannot fitly render his grave 
logic, here so worthily employed ; but I think his distinc- 
tion is somewhat of the same kind as that made by the 
Baron of Bradwardine between ebrius and ebriosus. To 
sing — acraL — is no harm, or to dance either, or to laugh — 
Athenseus swears to it, vrj At" ; but /xaX* deio-ai, to sing too 
much, to sing out of season, to trouble the company — this, 
indeed, is bad behaviour ; and wine in such cases may be 
properly called ijXeos, fool-making — otherwise not. Laugh- 
ing also is very proper ; but to laugh aircikbv molliter, — 
softly, affectedly — that is avavbpov, unmanly, and not be- 
coming a wise man. So of dancing. I am not sure that 
ftaX' will bear the interpretation here imposed upon it. 
But the guess is as good as any thing in Buttmann's Lexi- 
logus — a book which I intend, in the course of this series, 
carefully to examine ; and I have endeavoured to repre- 
sent it in my version. 



THE DOG ARGUS. 



ODYSSEY. Book XVII. 290-327. 



[' The poet' (6 iroirjTrjs, the only time he is so called in the 
arguments of the books) we are told by the V7r66€<ns, 
6 relates how the dog ? (6 kvcov — it was needless to say 
what dog) ' recognises his master/] 



J 40 ODYSSEY. XVII. 290-300. 



* fj2 o\ fxev TOiavTa irpos a\\rj\ov$ dyopevov. 
*Av ce kvoov Ke<pa\riv re /ecu ovara k€l(x€vo$ 

Apyos, Oovcrarjos Ta\aai<ppovos 9 



OV pa 7TOT CLVTOS 

k3pe\js€ ixev, ovo a7rovrjro irapos o eis iMov ipr\v 



tov be irdpoiQev dyiueaKov veoi hvepes 
Aiyas 67T ayporepas rjoe 7rpoKas rjoe Xaywovs* 
Arj Tore /ceir ct7ro#ea"T09 aTroi^ofxevoio clvclktos 

Ru 7T0X\rj KOTTpli), 



i] oi irpoirapoiQe Qvpawv 
±i/A£oi/toi/ Te poaw Te aAts Keyyr , o^pp ai; ayotev 

AjULU)€$ 



'OcVGCrfjoS T€fX€VO^ JULeyCL K07rpl(T(TOVT€$' 

EvOa kvcov KeiT 'Apyos, eviirXeios KwopaiaTecov. 



THE DOG ARGUS. 141 



THEN as they spake, upraised his head, 
Pricked up his listening ear, 
The dog, whom erst Odysseus bred, 
Old Argus lying near, 

2 
He bred him, but his fostering skill 

To himself had naught availed; 
For Argus joined not the chase, until 

The king had to Ilion sailed. 

3 
To hunt the wild-goat, hart, and hare, 

Him once young huntsmen sped; 
But now he lay an outcast there, 
Absent his lord, to none a care, 

Upon a dunghill bed, 

4 
Where store of dung, profusely flung 

By mules and oxen, lay; 
Before the gates it was spread along 

For the hinds to bear away, 

5 
As rich manure for the lands they tilled 

Of their prince beyond the sea ; 
There was Argus stretched, his flesh all filled 

With the dog-worrying flea. 



142 ODYSSEY. XVII. 301-310. 

Hfj Tore y , cos evorjaev KJovcrcrea eyyvs eovra, 
Ovprj ixev p by earjve kcli ovara Kaj3/3a\ei/ afx<p(v 
' Acraov 6 ovkct eireiTa cuurjcraTo olo clvclktos 

EX0€JUL€U' 



avTap o voa<piv icwv dwojULOp^aTo caKpv, 
Peia XaOcov ^vfxaiov' a(pap o epeeivero /ulvOco' 
" ILvfiai, rj fiaXa 9av/ia 9 kvcov ode kclt ev\ Koirpio, 



KaXos julcv de/mas earlv^ drdp rode y ov cra<pa 1 
old a 9 
i orj Kai raps €GK€ ueeiv eicc eioei Twoe, 



! 



' H ai/rcos, diol re Tpcnrel^rjes kvv€$ dv^pwv 
Tiyvovr ' ayXairjs o eveicev Kojueouaiv avaKres" 



THE DOG ARGUS. 143 

6 
But when by the hound his king was known, 

Wagged was the fawning tail, 
Backward his close-clapped ears were thrown, 
And up to his master's side had he flown; 

But his limbs he felt to fail. 



7 
Odysseus saw, and turned aside 

To wipe away the tear^); 
From Eumaeus he chose his grief to hide, 
And ' Strange, passing strange, is the sight/ he 
cried, 
' Of such a dog laid here ! 

8 
'"Noble his shape, but I cannot tell 

If his worth with that shape may suit; 
If a hound he be in the chase to excel, 

For fleetness of his foot: 

9 
' Or worthless as a household hound, 

Whom men by their boards will place, 
For no merit of strength or speed renowned, 

But admired for shapely grace.' 



144 ODYSSEY. XVII. 311-321. 

ToV o dTraiieif&oiJLevos 7rpoae(prj$ 9 Evjmaie <rv- 

ficoTa* 
Kal \crjv avcpos ye kvcov ode rrjXe QavovTos. 

i Toioao eir] rjfiiev oejuas fjce /cat epya, 
Qlov fxiv Tpoirjvoe klwv Karekenrev Ocvaaev^ 



Al\{/d K€ Orjqcraio, iocov TayyTr\Ta kcu oKky\v. 
Of /aev yap tl (puycGKe (iaOeiqs fievOeaiv v\rj$ 
KvcocaXov, ottl lcolto'( 2 ) Kal 'lyyeai yap TrepirioYi* 



Nvv 6 eyerai kcucottjti* dva^ ce oi aXXodi 

7raTprj$ 
,; Q\ero' tov ce yvvaiKes dtcrjoees ov KOfiieovcriv. 



Ajuiwes 5' 5 cut av jmrjiceT eTTiKpareaxnv avaKTes, 
Ovk6t ewGiT eOeXovaiv evaiaifxa epydfyaOai. 



THE DOG ARGUS. J 45 

10 
' He is the dog of one now dead, 

In a far land away; 
But if you had seen/ the swineherd said, 

* This dog in his better day, 
When Odysseus hence his warriors led 

To join in the Trojan fray, 

11 
< His strength, his plight, his speed so light, 

You had with wonder viewed ; 
No beast that once had crossed his sight, 

In the depths of the darkest wood, 
'Scaped him, as, tracking sure and right, 

He on its trace pursued. 

12 
i But now all o'er in sorrows sore 

He pines in piteous wise ; 
The king upon some distant shore 

In death has closed his eyes; 
And the careless women here no more 

Tend Argus as he lies. 

13 
6 For slaves who find their former lord 

No longer holds the sway 
No fitting service will afford, 
Or just obedience pay. 

H. b. 10 



146 ODYSSEY. XVII. 322-327. 

"H/micrv yap t ap6rr}$( 3 ) airoaivvrai evpvoira 

Zei/9 
Avepos, cut av fxiv Kara covXiov rjjmap eXqaiv 



*'Qs eiirdov elcrijXOe cojulovs evvaieraovras' 

Biy o i9u$ fxcyapoLo fiera juvrjarrjpas ayauovs 



''Apyov 8 av Kara Mo*// eXaftev /meXavos 6a- 

vaToio, 
Avtik Icovt 'Ocv<jr)a eeucoaTq) eviavrip. 






THE DOG ARGUS. 147 

14 
t Far-seeing Jove's resistless power 

Takes half away the soul 
From him, who of one servile hour 

Has felt the dire control.' 

15 
This said, the swineherd passed the gate, 

And entered the dwelling tall, 
Where proud in state the suitors sate 

Within the palace hall. 

16 
And darksome death checked Argus' breath 

When he saw his master dear; 
For he died his master's eye beneath, 

All in that twentieth year. 



10-2 



NOTES. 



Note (l). p. 143. 

To wipe away the tear ; 

Eustathius remarks, that it may appear strange that 
Ulysses sheds a tear over a dog, while he does not weep 
when he sees his wife drowned in sorrow. The archbishop 
maintains, that it is to be attributed to the fact that 
Ulysses was surprised by Argus, and had been prepared 
for Penelope. Perhaps so : but there are 

Thoughts which lie too deep for tears; 

and sorrow for a dog is not of the cast of sorrow for a 
woman. The ' much- enduring man' had been caught by 
the sight of old Argus, * and tears unbidden shed/ How 
could he have been affected by any physical demonstration 
of grief at the sight of a lady, whom, for so many long 
years, he had pined to behold, for a return to whom he had 
expended all the wiles of the wiliest of minds ? 

In that fine poem, Roderick, the Last of the Goths, 
which is fuller of recognitions even than the Odyssey y 
Southey introduces a dog: 

"While thus Florinda spake, the dog who lay 
Before Rusilla's feet, eyeing him long 
And wistfully, had recognised at length, 
Changed as he was and in those sordid weeds, 
His royal master. And he rose and licked 
His withered hand, and earnestly looked up 
With eyes whose human meaning did not need 
The aid of speech ; and moaned, as if at once 
To court and chide the long-withheld caress. 



THE DOG ARGUS. 149 

A feeling, uncommixed with sense of guilt 

Or shame, yet painfullest, thrilled through the king; 

But he, to self-control now long inured, 

Represt his rising heart, nor other tears, 

Full as his struggling bosom was, let fall 

Than seemed to follow on Florinda's words. 

Looking toward her then, yet so that still 

He shunned the meeting of her eye, he said, 

6 Virtuous and pious as thou art, and ripe 

For Heaven, O Lady ! I will think the man 

Hath not by his good angel been cast off 

For whom thy supplications rise. The Power 

"Whose justice doth, in its unerring course, 

Visit the children for the sire's offence, 

Shall He not in his boundless mercy hear 

The daughter's prayer, and for her sake restore 

The guilty parent? My soul shall with thine 

In earnest and continual duty join . . . 

How deeply, how devoutly, He will know 

To whom the cry is raised ! ' 

Thus having said, 
Deliberately, in self-possession still, 
Himself from that most painful interview 
Dispeeding, he withdrew. The watchful dog 
Followed his footsteps close. But he retired 
Into the thickest grove; there yielding way 
To his o'erburthened nature, from all eyes 
Apart, he cast himself upon the ground, 
And threw his arms around the dog, and cried, 
"While tears streamed down, 'Thou, Theron, then, hast known 
Thy poor lost master, . . . Theron, none but thou ! ' 

Here we find how dangerous it is for even acknow- 
ledged genius to travel in the footsteps of genius of the 
first order. The hound Theron, and the man Roderick, 
are far inferior to the hound Argus, and the man Ulysses. 
Argus required no length of time to know his master. 
Instinct is instantaneous. If Theron had taken a moment's 
time to reflect, there was an end of the business. Ulysses 



150 NOTES ON 

repressed not his emotion — he concealed it from his com- 
panion, but it came. Roderick was stoic enough to appear 
unmoved in the presence of dog and woman; but the 
moment that he is out of sight, he is selfish enough to 
indulge in reflections on his not being known by the ladies, 
as if it were a crime, an injury, or a shame. Ulysses goes 
forward without remark. He has proved himself to be 
full of human feeling, and he shews himself full of human 
wisdom, divested of splenetic sentiment or maudlin display 
of sorrow. 

We recommend Southey to read Professor Wilson's 
commentary on Argus. It is full both of poetry and philo- 
sophy : 

6 The memory or fancy of a dog (or a horse) is a mystery 
not to be explained ; and all that genius can do is to give, 
as in this case, illustration of it, the truth of which has 
been come at partly by observation and partly by reflec- 
tion, but chiefly by an intuiton of an analogy almost 
amounting to identity between the sentient being in cer- 
tain creatures we choose to call brutes, and certain crea- 
tures we choose to call men. And how know we that 
they have not a moral sense as well as ourselves — such a 
moral sense as is suitable to their condition, and to pro- 
mote the chief end of Dog ? which, reverently be it spoken, 
seems to be to love man and keep his commandments. 
Philosophers deny reminiscence to dogs, and treat of it 
exclusively as a human endowment — an active power 
belonging but to those who have discourse of reason. The 
Ettrick Shepherd knew better/ — Blackwood's Magazine 
for February. 

I regret I cannot find room for the truly eloquent 
passage that follows; but, as a contrast with Theron, I 
must give the comment on the recognition by Argus: 



THE DOG AKGUS. 151 

' For years and years rejoicing in his vigour and his 
victories, for he cranched his way through wood and over 
mountain, and with crimson flews outhowled the wolf 
prostrate beneath his paws, seldom then did he remember 
his master; for in the fulness of self-glorification dogs 
and men are alike forgetful of the past and regardless of 
the future, wallowing in the snow or sunshine (mercy on 
us ! we had almost said the blood and mire) of the pre- 
sent, and possessed wholly by the Now of life. But, oh, 
the difference to him on that dunghill ! Think ye his soul 
was absorbed in worrying fleas? or that, during short 
respites from that mean misery, he did not often see the 
shadow of Ulysses ? He sees the substance at last ; and, 
sagacious far beyond Eumaeus and Euryclea, and even 
Penelope, knows it is no beggar, 'but the Prince of all the 
Land/ Sagacious ! yes — he smelt him to be the man of 
men. Dim as were his eyes, he sighted him ; deaf as were 
his ears, he overheard him speaking of him, his very self, 
the poor, old, worn-out, starved, beaten, flea-worried Argus. 
Not now could he leap, dance, bound, as of yore, or his 
paws would have been on those shoulders, and his tongue 
had licked that face, and his growls of ecstasy would have 
startled the suitors in the hall, as if a lion had been at the 
gate. And at the gate there was a lion.' — Blackwood, 
ibid. 

And the lion did not weep, because he was not dis- 
covered by those from whom he desired to be concealed. 

Note (2). p. 144. 

KvaSakov, ottl ISolto' kcu '[^vecn yap 7r€pLr)dr]. 

I follow the ordinary reading, Idolro : &Wo is, per- 
haps, better. If so, my third line should read, 
No beast whom e'er he chased in flight. 



152 NOTES ON 

I leave it to Nimrod to decide if Eustathius is right, 
when he says that attributing to Argus powers of seeing 
takes away from his ichneutic merits. The commentators 
seem to think so. Non nostrum. 

Note (3). p. 146. 

H/xto-v ydp r dpcrrjs diroaivvrai evpvona Zeus. 

I translate not after dpcrrjs, but voov, a reading 
quoted by many ancient authors, in the place of dpcrrjs, 
which I think is a gloss. Noov seems to me more energetic. 
There is something to my mind extremely fine in Chap- 
man's version, though it certainly is not Homeric : 

That man's half virtue Jove takes quite away, 
That once is sunburrCd with the servile day. 




THE DOG ARGUS. 153 



*£* I had translated this before Mr Chapman's version 
appeared in Blackwood's Magazine. I am gratified to see 
that one who, as a poet and a scholar, is so adequate to 
form a judgment, and to afford, by his own compositions, 
so excellent an example of its justice, agrees with me in 
selecting the Spenserian stanza, and in adopting the Greek 
names, Odysseus, &c, in place of the Latin. Let me ask 
him, however, if 

Now his bed 

The dungheap was; and piteous was his case, 

His master far away, old, outcast, in disgrace. 

There full of tick, on that unsightly heap, 

He saw and knew his lord, 

properly renders the original, 1. 296-300 (in my version, 
st. iii. iv. v.) ? The palace of Ulysses was a farm-house, 
surrounded by a farm-yard; and, though Mr Chapman 
calls a dunghill an unsightly heap, we may be certain that 
the copious stock of manure destined for the fertilization 
of the large field did not appear so to the farmer. Solo- 
mon tells us [Prov. xiv. 4], ' where no oxen are the crib 
is clean, but much increase is by the strength of the ox/ 
And the wisest of men would not have been shocked at 
what the oxen left behind them. Rose, when translating 
Casti, very properly determined 

To let go my author's skirt 
When it would lead me into filth and dirt. 

But it is from dirt moral we should recoil. There, surely, 
is nothing to corrupt the imagination or pollute the heart 
in a picture of a farm-yard, even though the dunghill be 
introduced. In fact, there is a poetic grace in leading 



154 HOMERIC BALLADS. 

the mind away from the misery of poor Argus, to the 
contemplation of the renvoi fieya of his master — his 
mules, his oxen, and his hinds. Mr Chapman can afford 
to do without the squeamishness. He need not be afraid 
of following his great original. 



VI. 
THE FUNERAL OF ACHILLES. 



ODYSSEY. Book XXIY. 11-97. 



[After the death of the suitors, Mercury conducts their 
souls to Hades, where they meet the shades of the 
departed heroes of the Trojan war. Achilles laments 
to Agamemnon the cruel fate which took off so re- 
nowned a chieftain as the King of Men ; and Agamem- 
non, in reply, contrasts his own treacherous and un- 
honoured death with the gallant fall of Achilles in the 
field, surrounded by companions in arms fighting over 
his body for a whole day, amid a whirlwind of dust, in 
a combat closed only by the interposition of Jupiter ; 
and followed by unexampled funeral honours paid to 
his remains.] 



156 ODYSSEY. XXIV. 11-20. 



FAP 6 icrav XlKeavov re pod? kcli AevKaSa 

7T€TprjV 

'Hoe irap HeXioio 7rv\a$ kcu orj/mov Oveipwv 
' Hicrav* 



al\j/a o 'ikovto kclt acr(podeX6v Xeifxwva, 
'Ev9a re vaiowri ^u^ac 9 etocoXa Kafxovrwv. 



Vjhpov ce yj/v^fjv YlrjXrj'iadea) A^iXfjos 

Kcu YlarpoKXyjos kcu afxv/uLovos AvtlKo^oio 

iclvtos v 9 os apiGTos erjv eicos re ce/txa9 re 
TttJi/ aXAwv Aai/aaJi; yuer af&vfxova YlrjXelwva. 



*Q$ Ot M6I/ 7T€pl K6LVOV OJULlXcOV' dy^l/ULoXoV C€ 

"HXvO' €7ri ^VXV Aya/x€fxvovo9 'Arpeioao 
Ayyv/tevri* 



THE FUNERAL OF ACHILLES. J 57 



THE ghosts by Leucas* rock had gone, 
Over the ocean streams ; 
And they had passed on through the gates of the 
Sun, 
And the slumberous land of Dreams. 



2 
And onward thence to the verdant mead, 

Flowering with asphodel, 
Their course was led, where the tribes of dead, 

In shadowy semblance, dwell. 

3 
Achilles and Patroclus there 

They found with Nestor's son, 
And Aias, with whom could in life compare 

Of the host of the Danaans none, 
For manly form, and gallant air, 

Save the faultless Peleion. 



4 
I Around Achilles pressed the throng 

Of ghosts in the world below; 
| Soon passed Atrides' shade along, 

Majestic, yet in wo. 



158 ODYSSEY. XXIV. 21-31. 



. 



irept o aXXai ayqyepav , oaaai afx. avra) 
O'ikw ei; Aiy l&Ooio 9avov Kal ttot/jlov €TreG7rov 9 
Toy irporeprj "tyvyri Trpocrecfxvvee TlrjXeiwvos' 



" 'Arpeiorjy irepl fxev ce (pdfiev Au TcpiriKepavvw 
'AvSpcov rjpoowv (plXov eja/uevat rj/uara iravra* 



Ovveica iroWoiaiv re Kal icpOifnoicriv avacraes 
Arjfjiip evi Tpoocov, 69i 7raa^o/uiev aAry 6 Ay^aioi. 



H t apa Kal crol wpooTa TrapacrrrjaeaOai 

efxeWev 
MoTjO oXorj, Ttjv 01/T19 akeverai) 6? K6 yevrjrai. 



Q? o0eXes v rijuirjs airovrjixevos, riairep ai/acnxe?, 
A^m^ gpi Tpcocop QavaTOv Kal ttot/jlov eirKTireiv' 






THE FUNERAL OF ACHILLES. 159 

5 
About the king came crowding all 

Who, by a murderous stroke, 
With him were slain in iEgisthus' hall ; 

And first Achilles spoke. 

6 
''Twas once, Atrides, our belief, 

That thunder-joying Jove 
Ne'er honoured other hero-chief 

With equal share of love. 

7 
? Thy rule a mighty host obeyed, 

And valiant was the array, 
When outside Troy was our leaguer laid, 

For many a woful day. 

8 
'Yet did the gloom of dismal doom 

First on thy head alight; 
From the fate that at birth is marked to come 

Scaped never living wight. 

9 
1 Would that in honour on the ground, 

Where high thou hadst held command, 
Thy fallen body had been found, 

Slain upon Trojan land. 



160 ODYSSEY. XXIY. 32-40. 



ToJ kgv tol TVfJLJ3ov juev kiroiYicrav HJava^aiol^ 
hi oe Ke /cat cry 7rcuo* jueya /cAeo? >/j0a o7ri<xcra) 
Nui> o ctjoa cr oIkticxtw Qclvcltcq elfiapTo clXgqvcu." 



ToV d aire ^v^) Trpocrefpcoveev 'Arpeioao' 
" OXfiie Il^Xeos i/te\ 0eo?9 emc'iiceX! 'A^XXgv 9 
'O9 (Wes ey Tpoirj, e/cas AjO'yec^* 



a^i0£ oe cr aAAcu 
Kreuwro TjOcocuy /ca: A^aicoi/ vies apiGToi, 
yiapvaixevoi Trepl aelo' 



crv 6 ev crrpoCpaXiyyi Kovirjs 
Ke?cro [xeyas /uLGyaXcocrrl, XeXaaimevos l7nro<jvvais)v. 



THE FUNERAL OF ACHILLES. 161 

10 
i Where all the men of Achaean blood 

Their chieftain's tomb might raise — 
A tomb, in after-times to have stood, 

For thy son proud mark of praise: 
But 'twas fate that, by piteous death subdued, 

Thou shouldst end thy glorious days/ 

11 
'How blest,' then said Atrides' shade, 

'Thy lot, who fell in war, 
Godlike Achilles, lowly laid, 

In Troy, from Argos far. 

12 
\ We round thy corse, as slain it lay, 

The bravest and the best 
Of either host, the livelong day 

In slaughterous combat pressed. 

i 

Mid clouds of dust, that, o'er the dead, 

In whirlwind fierce arose, 
On the battle-field, all vastly spread, 

Did thy vast limbs repose; 
The skill forgot, which whilome sped 
Thy steed amid the foes^). 

h.b. 11 



162 ODYSSEY. XXIY. 41-50. 



'H/ueTs de Trpoirav r\\xap e/uapvdfxeff ' ov$e tee 

7rafX7rav 
JJavaajueOa 7TToAe/xoi/, ei iir\ Zef9 XaiXcnn Tcavaev. 



Avrap €7T€t a €7rl vfjas eveiicajuLev ck TroXe/moio, 
KarOefiev ev Xe^eecraLj fcaOrjpavres XP oa Ka ^° u 

''YdCLTl T€ XlCtpW KCU dXciCpCLTl' 



7ro\\d oe a djuKpl 
AaKpva Oepiia X €0V Aarcro* neipovro re ^a/ras, 
MrjTrjp o ej£ a\o§ rjX9e avv dOavaTrjs aXirjcriv, 
AyyeXitjs aiovcra 9 



pOYf 67T* 1TOVTOV OptVp€l 

Q€(T7reair)' v7ro ce Tpofios eAAa/3e TravTas A^aiovs' 
Kcu vv k avdi^avres ej3au koiXus eirl vrjas, 



I 



THE FUNERAL OF ACHILLES. 163 

14 
'All day we fought, and no one thought 

Of holding of the hand ; 
Till a storm to an end the contest brought, 

Sent by high Jove's command. 



15 
'From the field of fight thy corse we bore, 

And for the ships we made; 
We washed away the stains of gore, 
And thy body fair anointed o'er, 

On its last of couches laid. 



16 
' Hot tears did the eyes of the Danaans rain, 

And they cut their flowing hair; 
Uprose thy mother from the main, 
With all the immortal sea-nymph train, 

At the tidings of despair. 



17 
' Loud over the sea rose the voice of wail, 

And the host was filled with dread; 
And homeward they would, with hasty sail, 
In their hollow ships have fled, 

11—2 



164 ODYSSEY. XXIV. 51-62. 



Et fxri avrjp KCLTepvKC, iraXaid re woXXd re 

€£Oft)9, 

TSiearwp, ov kcu Trpoadev apiary (paivero /3ovX}]' 
' O <j(j)LV evcppovecov ayoprjaaro /ecu fxereenrev' 






, YcryeaQ , Apye7oi 9 /urj (pevyere, Kovpoi Ayaiwv 
IMrjTtjp e<~ aXos ijoe avv d6avaTr)S aXirjaiv 
Ep^erai, ov 7raioo\ TeQvrjOTOs avriococra. 



*Qs e(pa6*' oi 6 ea^ovro (pofiov fxeydOujixoi 

A^aioi' 
'A/UL<pl ce a 'eGTrjcrav novpai aXioio yepovros, 
Q'lKTp oXocpvpojULevai, Trepl o a/ixfipoTa eiixaTa 
kaaav* 



MoScrcu 6 evvea Traaai, d/meifiofxevai owl tcaXfi, 
k3pr}veov evua Kev ovtiv adaKpvTov y evorjaa? 
Apyeitov* Tolov yap viroopope MoDcra Xiyeia* 



THE FUNERAL OF ACHILLES. 165 

18 
'Had not a man, to whom was known 

The wisdom of days of eld, 
Who in council ever was wisest shewn, 

Nestor, their flight withheld: 
For he spoke to them thus in sagest tone, 

And their panic fear dispelled. 

19 
t « Argives," he said, " your steps restrain, 

Achaeans, do not flee; 
His mother is rising from out the main, 
With all the immortal Sea-nymph train, 

The corse of her son to see." 

20 
' The flight was checked — and round thee came 

The maids of the Sea-god old ; 
Sad weeping as they wrapt thy frame 

In vesture of heavenly fold. 

21 
'A mournful dirge the Muses nine 

In strains alternate sung, 
And from every eye the tearful brine 

Through the Argive host was wrung; 
For none could withstand the lay divine 

Of the Muse's dulcet tongue. 



166 ODYSSEY. XXIV. 63-72. 

Eirrd ce kcu ceica fxev ere ofxws vvktcls re Kcd 

rjfiap 
K\cuojmej>, aOavaTOi T€ Oeol Qvr\roi r avOpcoiroi. 



' OKTooKcuceKCLTYi c ecofiev 7rvpl 9 7ro\Xd ce or 

a/u<pl 
M^Act KareKTavo/uiev juaXa ttiovcl kcu eXiKas pews. 



Kaieo 6 ev t ecrOrJTL Qeuov kcu aXeiCpctTi 7roXX<v 
Kcu fxeXiTi yXvKepifi' 



7toXXoI d ripvoes ' Ayaiol 
Tei/^eeny eppwaavTo irvprjv Trepi Kaio/xevoLO^ 
Yle(pi ff \7T7rrje$ re* 



7roAf9 o opujuayco? opcopet. 
AvTcip €7rel C17 ere <pXo£ r\vvGev *li<pctiaToio, 
'HwOev ori tol Xeyo/uev XevK 6are\ A^iXXev 9 



THE FUNERAL OF ACHILLES. 167 

22 
'By day and night for ten days' space — 

For ten days' space and seven, 
Wept we, the men of mortal race, 

And the deathless gods of heaven. 

23 
'And when the eighteenth morning came, 

To the pile thy corse was borne; 
And many fat sheep were slain at the flame, 

And steers of twisted horn. 

24 
'With ointment rich upon the pyre, 

And honey covered o'er, 
There didst thou burn in rich attire, 

Such as immortals wore. 

25 
'And many a hero-chief renowned 

Rushed forward, foot and horse, 
The blazing death-pile to surround 

Where burnt thine honoured corse. 

26 
'The tumult was loud of that martial crowd, 

Till the flame had consumed thee quite; 
And then, when the dawn of morning glowed, 

We gathered thy bones so white. 



168 ODYSSEY. XXIV. 73-81. 



O'tvip iv aKpfJTO) kcu oXeicpari* ca//ce ce ixrjTrjp 
Xpvcreov a/x(pi(popr]a' 



Aitovvcroio ce cwpov 
<facnc eleven, epyov ce 7T€piK\vTov 'HcpalaToio. 



'Ey T(p tol Kelrai Xevic 6orrea 9 (paioinx ' AyjXKev^ 
Wily da ce YlarpoKXoio Wlevoiridcao Oavovros* 



Xwpls c 'AvtiXo^olo' tov e^o^a Tte? aTravTOOv 
TetSi> aXKwv erapodV) fxera WarpoKkov ye Qavovra. 



'Api(p 9 avTOicri 6 €7T€iTa fxeyav nal dfxvfxova 

TVfJLJ3oV 

XevaiJicv ' Apyelwv \epos crrparos a\yjxv\rawv 
Akt?] tin Trpovyowr],' 



THE FUNERAL OF ACHILLES. 169 

27 
' In unmixed wine, and ointment fine, 

When the fire had ceased to burn, 
We laid those relics prized of thine 

All in a golden urn. 

28 
'This costly gift thy mother brought; 

And she said it was bestowed 
By the god of Wine — a vessel wrought 

By the Fire-working god. 

29 
'And there are laid thy bones so white, 

Mingled, illustrious chief, 
With his, thy friend, whose fall in fight 

Wrought thee such mickle grief. 

30 
1 Those of Antilochus apart 

Are stored — for, of all the host, 
After Patroclus slain, thy heart 

Him loved and honoured most. 

31 
'And the Argive spearmen, gathering round, 

Upraised a mighty heap, 
For thy tomb, a large and lofty mound, 

Upon a jutting steep. 



170 ODYSSEY. XXIV 82-92. 

€7rl 7r\aTe7 KKXrjGirdvTo/ 
'Qs Kev Trfkecpavrjs e/c 7rovTo<piv dvcpdaiv eirj 
T0T9, ol vvv yeyaaa /ecu 01 jul€T07tig9€v cgovtcu. 



yirjrrjp airrjaacxa Qeovs irepiKaXXe deOXa 
Qi]K€ jmeaa) ev aywvi apicrrrjecroiv A^aioov. 



* Hcrj ixev irokewv Ta(j)co dvcpS>v dvTefioXrjGas 
'Hpcowv, ore Kev ttot ct7ro(p9ijuevov fiaGiXrjos 
Zwvvvvrai re veoi kcu eirevrvvovTai aeOXa' 



'AXXa K€ Kelva julclXigtcl icoov Orjrjcrao Qvfxw^ 
Or eir\ Goi KCiTeOrjtce 6ed 7repiKaXXe aeQXa, 
' ApyvpoireXa Qeri$' 



fxaXa yap (piXos f]G0a OecnGiv* 
Lis gv jmev ovoe vaviov ovofx wKeGas, 



THE FUNERAL OF ACHILLES. 171 

32 
6 Landmark conspicuous there for aye, 

By Helle's waters wide( 2 ), 
For men who may sail on a future day, 

As for those of the present tide. 

33 
6 Thy mother then the gods besought, 

And they gave what she chose to ask; 
And many a glorious prize she brought, 

To be won by manly task. 

34 
6 1 oft before, when heroes died, 

Have joined beside their tomb 
The youths of pride, who there to bide 

The feats of strength have come. 

35 
'But such store of prize ne'er met my eyes 

As there that day was seen, 
Which Thetis brought for thine obsequies, 

The silver-footed queen. 

36 
6 Dear wert thou to the gods; and now, 

Even in the world beneath, 
Thy endless glory lies not low, 

Achilles, with thy death. 



172 ODYSSEY. XXIV. 93-94. 

aXka toi aiei 
Havras €7r avQpwTTovs /cAeos eacrerai eaQXov, 
AyjXkev" 



THE FUNERAL OF ACHILLES. 173 

37 
'For ever and aye that precious name 

Among mankind shall live; 
For ever and aye the meed of fame 

From all the world receive.' 



NOTES, 



Note (l). p. 161. 

Thy steed amid the foes. 

Alas ! I know well how wretched is my imitation of 
the original. All I can say is, that others do not appear 
to me to have succeeded much better. The passage 
occurs also in the 16th Iliad; and it is curious to find 
that Pope has translated it (or, perhaps, in the' Odyssey, 
suffered it to be translated) variously. In the Iliad, his 
version is — 

But where the rising whirlwind clouds the plains, 
Sunk in soft dust the mighty chief remains, 
And, stretched in death, forgets the guiding reins. 

In the Odyssey — 

In clouds of smoke, raised by the noble fray, 

Great and terrific even in death you lay, 

And deluges of blood flowed round you every way. 

I prefer the latter, inaccurate as it is — for I cannot recon- 
cile myself to thinking of Achilles, ixiyas /xeyaXwo-rt, as 
being merely 'sunk in soft dust.' 'Great and terrific 
even in death you lay' is far more like. I have looked 
through the versions in other European languages, but 
can only say that the most amusing is the Dutch — 

Men vondt u uitgestrekt, ver van u legerwagen, 
Soo fier noch, dat met schrik de Troijers u ontsagen. 

Ver van u legerwagen — 'far from your baggage wagon,' 
or if we should even ennoble it into ' thy war chariot' — 
is a wrong translation; but, even if it were perfectly 
correct, what a different sound from the melancholy har- 



THE FUNERAL OF ACHILLES. 175 

mony of Xekao-fjievos LTTTToo-vvaoDv ! It is only fair, however, 
to say that the Dutch Odyssey is a very remarkable book, 
and deserves something far better than a joking notice. 
At all events, we all may comfort ourselves by the reflec- 
tion, that even Virgil could not come nearer to his original 

than 

Ingentem, atque ingenti vulnere \ictus. — 2En. X. 842. 

[A better version than any here given is to be found 
in a couplet quoted by Gilbert Wakefield from Ogilby's 
forgotten translation, 

When in a dusty whirlwind thou didst lie, 
Thy valour lost, forgot thy chivalry, 

which has a 'melancholy harmony' of its own, akin to 
that of XeXao-jjievos l7nro<rvvaa>v 9 though it does not express 
fieyas fieyoXcocrTL. Ed.] 

Note (2). p. 171. 

— 
By Helle's waters wide — eVi 7rXareI 'EXkrjcnrovTO). 

There has been some disputation about the meaning 
of 7r\aTvs in this passage; and, even in ancient times, 
there was a suspicion that it did not mean wide, but salt, 
Clarke, the traveller, adopts this interpretation ; but it is 
needless: and, besides, the word bore no such meaning in 
the days of Homer. The Hellespont, considered as a river 
or a stream, is wide. I may remark that Lord Byron, in 
spite of all his boasting, did not perform the feat of 
Leander. 



VII. 

THE INTRODUCTION OF PENELOPE, 



ODYSSEY. Book I. 319-365. 



[Minerva, in the appearance of Mentes, had visited Tele- 
machus, and counselled him to seek his father. In- 
spired with a new feeling of independence, he joins 
the suitors, whom he finds at festival, listening to Phe- 
mius, the minstrel, whose song turns, as usual, on the 
Trojan war. Penelope hears the singer, and comes 
into the hall to request that some other subject than 
that which is so distressful to her feelings should be 
chosen. Telemachus gently rebukes her; and she 
retires, convinced that her son is about to take the 
lead in his father's house, to weep herself to slumber 
over the thoughts of her absent husband — while the 
suitors continue the noisy revel. She is the first 
mortal female who speaks in the Odyssey, and her first 
words attest the deep and enduring affection she feels 
for Ulysses. It may be remarked that Ulysses dis- 
covers himself in consequence of the song of the bard 
Demodocus, and Penelope appears in consequence of 
the song of the bard Phemius. The aoibol are far 
more conspicuous in the Odyssey than the Iliad. 
Whether this is an indication that the Odyssey was 
the earlier or later poem may be a question. It is 
evident, from 1. 350, 351 of the following, that there 
were poems before either.] 

H. B. 12 



178 ODYSSEY. I. 319-325. 



' X_r MEN ap ws €L7rova a7T€J3r] y\avKW7r^ 
AQrjvtj, 

' OpVIS O COS aVOTTOLiaQ) CL67TTaTO' Tip 8 €Vl OvflU) 

QrJKe fxevos Kal 9apao$, 



VTrefxvrjCTev re e irctTpos 
ISlaWov €T fj to 7rapoiQev. o c€ 9 (ppealv fieri 

vorjeras, 
Q dfjifirjG ev kclto, Ovfxov. 



oiaaTo yap 6eov elvai. 
Avtlkcl $e fivrjcrTfjpa9 eirip^eTO iaoOeo? (pm* 
Louji o aoicos aeioe ire piKAVTos, oi ce aiW7rrj 

ElCLT CLKOVOVTeS* 



INTRODUCTION OF PENELOPE. 179 



SOON as Athene spoke the word, 
She took the likeness of a bird, 
And, skyward soaring, fled. 
The counsels of the heavenly guest 
Within Telemachus's breast 
New strength and spirit bred. 



His absent father to his thought 
Was by his wakened memory brought 

More freshly than of old : 
But when Athene's flight he saw, 
A feeling deep of reverend awe 

His inmost heart controlled. 



He knew the stranger was a god; 
And hastening to his own abode, 

He joined the suitor train. 
A far-famed minstrel in the hall( 2 ) 
Sang to the peers, who listened all 

In silence to his strain. 

12-2 



180 ODYSSEY. I. 326-333. 



o o AyaiOov vogtov aewev 
Avy pov 9 bv €K Tpoirjs eireTeikaTO TlaXkas AOyjvyj. 



Tov 6 virepmoOev (ppeal crvvdero Qecnriv doiorjv 
Kovprj iKapioiO) ireplcppcov U^ueXoireia* 
KA/jtxafca o v^/r)\rjv KaTefiqaaTo olo cofioio, 



Ovk olyj 9 afxa Trjye kcli d/x<pi7ro\oi cv eirovTo. 
*H S ore $rj lULvrjGTrjpas dcpiKero via yvwiKOov, 
2t^ pa 7rapd araOfiov reyeos 7rvKa 7roiY}Toio 9 



INTRODUCTION OF PENELOPE. 181 

4 

As subject of his lay he chose 
The mournful story of the woes 

Borne by the Achaean host, 
When, under Pallas' vengeful wrath, 
Homeward returning was their path 

Bent from the Trojan coast. 



The song Icarius' daughter heard, 
And put together every word 

As from below it came, 
Straight did she from her bower repair 
And hastened down the lofty stair, 

That great, wisehearted dame. 



Alone she went not— in her train 

She took with her handmaidens twain; 

And when the peerless queen 
Came where the suitors sate, aloof 
Close by a post that propped the roof, 

She stood with face unseen. 



182 ODYSSEY. I. 334-342 



' Avra Trapeiaeov Gyofxevrj Xnrapa KpY t deixva" 
A/ui(pi7ro\o$ o apa ol Kecvrj eKarepOe irapecrTrj. 
Actfcpvcracra o eireira TTpoarjvoa Qelov aoicov' 



" <i>rjiuLi€ 9 7roX\a yelp aWa fiporcov OeXfCTyjpia 

oloas 1 , 
Epy avepoov re Oewv T€, rare Kkelovcriv aoiSoi' 



Taw ev ye cr(piv aetde Traprjfievos, o\ de crmirri 

GlvOV TTLVOVTWV* TaVTV]<$ C OLTTOTTave aoicfjs 

Avyprjs, fjT€ fiot alel ivl arfjOeaaL (p'Chov Krjp 
TeipeC eirei fxe fxaXiara KaOiKero irevOos ixkacFTOv. 



INTRODUCTION OF PENELOPE. 183 

7 

A veil concealed her cheeks from view, 
And by each side a handmaid true 

In seemly order stood; 
With tears fast bursting from her eyne, 
Addressing thus the bard divine, 

She her discourse pursued: 



'Phemius! for men's delight thy tongue 
Can many another flowing song 

In soothing measure frame; 
Can tell of many a deed, which done 
By God or man in days bygone, 

Bards have consigned to fame. 



' Take one of those, and all around, 
Silent, will hear the dulcet sound, 

E'en as they drink their wine; 
But cease that melancholy lay 
That wears my very heart away — 

A heavy wo is mine ! 



184 ODYSSEY. I. 343-354. 

Toiqv yap K£(pa\rjv iroQew^ jmefiv^juevrf alel 
Avcpos, tov icXeos evpv naff 'EXXaoa kcu /necxov 

yf Apyos" 
Tqv o av TrjXefjLa^o^ 7T€7rvviuL6P09 dvTiov tjvca' 

ii A/I ~ » * / » »/ ,r\ t » / » $ * 

MfJTCp 6/ULTJ) TL T ap<X (pU0V6€l£ epiYjpOV CLOICOV 

T r tf t f »/ 

epireiv, otttvy] ol voos opvvrai ; 



ov vv t aoiooi 
A'lTioi, aXXa 7to6l Zei/9 c/'iTios, o(TT€ oloco&iv 
'Avcpaaiv aXcprjcrTrjcriv, bwws eOeX^ai^ etcaaTw. 

ToVTW O OV V€fJL€ai9} AaVClWV KOLKOV OLTOV CL€ld€lV' 



Tyis yap aoidrjv /maXXov eiriKXeiovcr avQpwiroi, 
' tins aKovovTeacn vewrarr\ a(JL<pi7re\r]Tai. 
2ol o eTTLToXfudTcv Kpacir] Kal 6v/ulo$ aKOvetv* 
Ov yap Ocvcrcevs olo$ dirooXeae vocrTifxov rjfxap 
Ev Tpoirj 9 



INTRODUCTION OF PENELOPE. 185 

10 

'How can I check the tide of grief, 
Remembering still that far-famed chief, 

Whose fame all Hellas fills?' 
Answered her son, * Oh ! mother mine ! 
Why dost thou blame the bard divine, 

For singing as he wills? 



11 

6 Blame not the poet — blame to Heaven, 
Which to poor struggling men has given 

What weight of wo it chose. 
How can we charge the bard with wrong, 
If the sad burden of his song 

Turns on the Danaan woes? 



12 

'Men, ever with delighted ear, 
The newest song desire to hear. 

Then firmly to the strain 
Listen, which tells of perils done : 
My sire is not the only one 
Who of the chiefs to Ilion gone 

Has not returned again. 



186 ODYSSEY. I. 355-365. 



7toXXoi 06 KCU hXXoi 0WTG9 bXoVTO. 

AXX els olkov iouaa tcl a avrrjs epya KOfxi(e, 
larov t r]\aKaTY\v T€, kcii ajULCpnroXoiGt KeXeve 
1 Epyov eiroL^eaOaL' 



fjivOos o dv^peaai fxeXriaei 
Yldcri, nxuXicrTa $' efioi 4 tov yap Kpdros cctt eve 



OLKCO, 



H fxev Oaju/i^aaaa iraXiv oiKOvSe fiefirjKei' 
Uaioos yap fxvOov ire-KWfxevov evOero Oufxw. 



'Es <? vwepip dva/3aaa avv dfxtpnrdXoicri yvvai<~lv, 
KXalei/ eiteiT 'OSucrrja, (piXov 7roaiv 9 b(j)pa o\ 



V7TV0V 



Hcvv €7rl /3Xe<papoL<jL (iaXe yXavKcoiris AOrjvrj. 
M^vrjcrrfj pes 6 oixaOYjcjav dvd fxeyapa (TKioevra. 



INTRODUCTION OF PENELOPE. 187 

13 

"For many, to that fatal shore 

Who sailed away, came back no more : 

Thy business is at home, 
Thy servant-maidens to command, 
And ply, with an industrious hand, 

The distaff, and the loom. 

14 

'To men, the guiding power must be, 
At all times, in these halls to me; 

For here my will is law/ 
The queen went homeward, as he bade, 
And felt the words her son had said 

Inspired her soul with awe. 

15 

Soon did she, with her handmaids twain, 
Her lofty seated chamber gain. 

And there, with many a tear, 
Until Athene came to steep 
Her weary lids in balmy sleep, 
Right sorrowfully did she weep 

Her absent husband dear. 
While, seated still at festival, 
The suitors, in the dusky hall, 

Revelled with noisy cheer. 



NOTES. 



Note (1). p. 178. 

' OpvLs S' cos avoircua buTrTaro' ro> §' iv\ Svyico, 

As the ancient authorities cannot fix what bird this 
avoirala is intended to be, I have adopted the prudent 
course of not translating it at all, according to a very- 
ordinary custom. I think it impossible, however, that it 
can bear the meaning of ' invisible/ which is given it by 
many translators, in different tongues. 

Note (2). p. 179. 

A far-famed minstrel in the hall. 

I cannot refrain from copying a French translation of 
this passage as far as 1. 359, executed in the time when 
gout was predominant. It is by La Valterie. The third 
edition, which is the only one I have seen, was published 
in 1708. It must, therefore, have been a favourite : * Durant 
leur entretien, Phemion avait continue de chanter, et 
Penelope, suivie de quelques unes de ses femmes, etait 
entree dans la salle, ou tous ses amans entendaient les 
admirables chansons. Lorsqu'il chanta un recit des tristes 
aventures des Grecs, qui avaient eu part a la conquete de 
Troie, la souvenir d'Ulysse la toucha si fort, que Tele- 
maque, rentrant dans Tassemblee, trouva cette princesse 
toute en larmes. Phemion aurait Ue puni de son indiscre- 
tion, si le prince n'avait consider^ que beaucoup oVautres 
grands hommes avaient eu part aux aventures dont Phemion 



INTRODUCTION OF PENELOPE. 189 

avait parte, qu'il avait moins considere le sujet de son ricit 
que la nouveaute de Fair, et la beautS du chant; et que de 
tout terns les actions des hommes les plus illustres ont He* 
expostes aux vers des poetes.' The sentence I have marked 
in Italics appears to me particularly diverting ; and yet it 
is not more anti-Homeric than the Telemaque of Fenelon, 
the style of which it somewhat resembles. La Valterie 
boasts, in his preface to the Iliad, which is written in the 
same manner, that he has done Homer the justice of 
making him speak in a manner worthy of the times of 
civilisation. 



VIII. 

THE LAST APPEARANCE OF PENELOPE. 



ODYSSEY. Book XXIII. 289-343. 



[I have chosen this passage as a sort of pendant to that 
which appeared in the last number ; but I confess that 
I think the lines from v. 310 to 343 are interpolated. 
They seem to be the production of a scholiast or 
commentator, summing up in a few lines what had 
been already told at length. Besides, they are not 
in the flowing Homeric manner, and they contain at 
least one word which can with difficulty be reconciled 
to its ordinary use in Homer. I refer to adivdav, v. 326, 
on which Buttmann, more suo 9 blunders absurdly. 
They are very ancient and harmonious verses, how- 
ever, and the part which is undoubtedly Homeric is a 
beautiful conclusion of the character of Penelope; 
cautious and guarded, from the unhappy necessity of 
her position, but ever chaste and domestic ; and, when 
convinced that her husband has indeed returned, as 
warm and affectionate in his presence as her thoughts 
had been constant and tender towards him in his 
absence.] 



192 ODYSSEY. XXIII. 289-301. 



nr^OOPA o ap JLvpvvojur] T€ Ice Tpo(£>6$ evrvov 

evvrjv 
'Ea6rjTO$ fiaXaKrjs, catowv v7ro Xaijarofxevaajv. 
Avrap 67T6t cfTopeaav ttvkivov Xe^os eytcoveovaai, 
Tprjvs fxev Keiovaa iraXiv oiKovoe fiefitjKei' 
Tolctlv o EiVpvvofxri 9aXa.[xr]7r6Xo$ qyefxovevev 
'YLpyoiievoicri Xe^oaroe, caos jmerd ^epalv e^ovcra' 



'Es OaXa/uov o ayayouaa iraXiv kUv. o\ jxev 

>/ 
eireira 

'Acrwaaioi XeKTpoio iraXcuov Ocgjulov 'ikovto. 

AvTap TrjXefxa^o? Kal {3ovkoXo$ rjoe avficoTrjs 



Ylavaav ap' 6p-^rj9fjLo7o Trooas, iravaav de yvvaiKa^ 
Avrol 8 evvaXpvro Kara /meyapa GKioevra. 
Tco $' eTreJ ovv (piXorrjros krapwriTriv epareivrjs, 
TepiTGaOriv /xvOolct^ ttjOos aXXrjXovs eveTrovre* 



LAST APPEARANCE OF PENELOPE. 193 



ABED of texture soft and fine 
The nurse and the handmaiden spread; 
The couch was decked by torchlight shine, 
And homeward then the old woman sped. 
While Eurynome, as a chamber-groom, 
With lamp in hand, to the nuptial room 
The new-met partners led. 



2 
Thither she led them, and withdrew, 

And left them, as in days of old, 
Their former dalliance to renew 

In joyous passion uncontrolled. 
And the herd of swine, and the herd of kine, 
With the heir of Ithaca's royal line, 

Bade the house its peace to hold. 



S 
The dance was checked as they desired, 

The sound of woman's voice repressed ; 
In silence then they all retired 

Within the darkening halls to rest. 
And when was done love's dearest rite, 
Husband and wife with calm delight 

Their mutual thoughts expressed. 

h.b. 13 



194 ODYSSEY. XXIII. 302-312. 



ri [iev oa ev jueyapoicriv avea^ero oia yvvaiKwv, 
'Avcpoov fJLvrjcrTf] pwv eaopcoa* diSrjXov ofxiXov, 
Ot k0€v eiveKa ttoXXcl, j3oa$ kcll i(pta jULfjXa, 
"Eaipafyv' 7ro\Xo9 oe ttlQwv rjcpvcraero oivos> 



AvTap 6 Aioyevrjs Ocvaevs oca Kfjoe eOrjKev 
'AvOpcowois baa t civtos oiXvaas e/moyrjcrev, 
avT eXey r\ o ap erepwer clkovovg , ovoe oi 

V7TVO$ 

fAiwrev eirl fiXeCpapoiai irapo$ KaraXe^ai oaravTa* 



HjO^aTo $', a>9 irpwrov KiKovas cd^iaa ' avrdp 



eireira 



^HX0 9 €9 Ad)To(pdy(ov dvopcov 7rieipav apovpav' 
'H$' ocra KwcXcovJ/ ep%€, kcu cos aTrerlaaro ttoivyiv 



LAST APPEARANCE OF PENELOPE. 195 

4 
She told him of the scorn and wrong 

She long had suffered in her house, 
From the detested suitor throng, 

Each wooing her to be his spouse. 
How, for their feasts, her sheep and kine 
Were slaughtered, while they quaffed her wine 

In plentiful carouse. 



5 
And he, the noble wanderer, spoke 

Of many a deed of peril sore — 
Of men who fell beneath his stroke — 

Of all the sorrowing tasks he bore. 
She listened, with delighted ear — 
Sleep never came her eyelids near, 

Till all the tale was o'er. 



6 
First told he how the Cicones 

He had subdued with valiant hand, 
And how he reached across the seas, 

The Lotus-eaters' lovely land; 
The crimes by Polyphemus done, 
And of the well-earned vengeance won, 
For slaughter of his band. 

13-2 



196 ODYSSEY. XXIII. 313-321. 



*l<pQiHWV iTapcov, ovs tjaOiev ovc? kXeaipev" 

Ho W9 Ai6\0V e lK€0\ b fXll' 7Tp6(ppa)V V7T€$€KTO 

a i 7re/M7r 



ovce 7TG) cuaa tpiXrjv €9 TraTpid iKecrOai 
' HrjV, aXXa [uv avris avapira^aaa OveXXa 
YiovTOV 67r lyQvoevTa (pepev fxeyaXa aTeva^ovTa* 



'Ho' cos Tir]\e7rv\ov AaicTTpvyovLrjv dcpiKavev, 
Ot vrjas t oXecrav kcu evKvrjfMoas eraipovs' 
[nai/Tas' 'Ocvacrevs o olos v7T€K(puy€ vr\i fxeXaivr}'^ 
KaJ JLlptcr]? KareXe^e coXov TroXv/mrj'xavirjv re* 



LAST APPEARANCE OF PENELOPE. 197 

7 
Vengeance for gallant comrades slain, 

And by the Cyclops made a prey; 
And how it was his lot to gain 

The isle where iEolus holds sway; 
And how the Monarch of the wind 
Received him with a welcome kind, 

And would have sent away, 



8 
Home to his native isle to sail; 

But vainly against fate he strove, 
By whom unroused a desperate gale 

Over the fishy ocean drove, 
And sent him wandering once again, 
The toils and dangers of the main 

With many a groan to prove. 



9 
And how he wandered to the coast 

Where dwells the distant Laestrygon; 
How there his ships and friends he lost, 

Escaping in his bark alone ; 
He spoke of Circe's magic guile, 
And told the art and deep-skilled wile 

By the enchantress shewn. 



198 ODYSSEY. XXIII. 322-332. 



'Ho cos els 'Aioeco cojuov rjXvOev evpcoevTa 9 
^VXV ^prjao/jievos Qrjfiaiou Teipecriao, 
'Nrfi 7ro\vK\r}ici, kcu eicnce iravras eraipovs 
^Arjrepa 6 , rj fxiv 6tikt6 kcli hrpecpe tvtOov govtcC 



'Ho cos ^eiprjvcov ddivdtov (pOoyyov clkovggV 

tf Qs ff 'lK€TO YIXctyKTCXS 7T€Tpa$ ^GlViqV T€ XdpvfidlV 
^KuXXtfV 9\ i]V OV 7TC07TOT O.KY]ptOl CtVOpeS CxXv^UV' 



'Ho cos 'HeXioio (ioas KCLT€7T€(pvov ercupoC 
'Ho cos vrja Qoyjv efiaXe ^/oXoevTi nepavvco 
7jG\js vyJsifipejuLGTrjs' euro o ecpOSev etrOXol eToipoi 
Hdvres ofxcos, avros oe KctKas V7ro Ktjpas aXv^ev' 






LAST APPEARANCE OF PENELOPE. 199 

10 
Then how to Hades' grisly hall 

He went to seek the Theban seer, 
In his swift ship; how there with all 

The partners of his long career 
He met; and how his mother mild, 
Who bore, and reared him from a child, 

He saw while wandering there. 



11 
And how the dangerous strain he heard, 

Sung by the Sirens' thrilling tongue; 
And how with dexterous skill he steered 

His course the justling rocks among ; 
How he — what none had done before — 
Unscathed through dread Charybdis bore, 

And Scylla sailed along. 



12 
And how the oxen of the sun 

With impious hand his comrades slew; 
And how high-thundering Jove upon 

Their flying bark his lightning threw, 
Till by the bolt of life bereft, 
Perished his friends, he only left 

Remaining of the crew. 



200 ODYSSEY, XXIII. 333-341. 



e Qs 6 \kgt Qyvy irjv vrjcrov Nu/uL<prjv re Ka\f\J/fc5, 
* H cr? fjiiv KaT€pvK€, XiXaiOfxeprj ttogiv elvcu, 
Ei; aireacri ykacpvpolcri, 



teat erpecpev rjce ecpaaicev 
Qrjaeiv adavarov teal ayrjpaov rjfxaTa itavra' 
AWa tw OV7TOT6 Ovjulov evl arrjOeacTiv eireiOeV 



'Ho w$ e? <£>alr]Kas a(piK€To, woWa fxoyqaas, 
0? o?7 jjiiv irepi Kfjpi Qeov a)? TifurjaavTO 
Kcu 7re/U^/ai/ avv vrji (piXrjv es 7raTpioa yaiav* 
XaX/coi/ re xpvaov re a\i$ eaOiJTa t€ dovTes* 



LAST APPEARANCE OF PENELOPE. 201 

13 
And how, in the Ogygian isle, 

He visited Calypso fair; 
And how she sought, with many a wile, 

To keep him still sojourning there : 
With fond desire 'twas hers to crave, 
That he, within her hollow cave, 

Her nuptial bed should share. 



14 
Each hospitable art she tried, 

His heart to win — his hopes to soothe ; 
She promised him, were she his bride, 

Immortal life, and ceaseless youth. 
But all her promise, all her art, 
Changed not the temper of his heart, 

Nor shook his stedfast truth. 



15 
How, after many a year of toil, 

When on Phseacian land he trod, 
The king and people of the isle 

Hailed him with honours of a god; 
And sent him full of presents fair, 
Of gold, and brass, and garments rare, 

Back to his own abode. 



202 ODYSSEY. XXIII. 342-343. 



Tovt apa devTarov elwev 67T09, ore o\ yXuicvs 

V1TVO§ 

Avai/meX^ €7ropova€ 9 Xvcov ^eXec^fxara Ovfiov. 



LAST APPEARANCE OF PENELOPE. 203 

16 
So closed the tale. Then balmy sleep, 

The healer of all human woes, 
Did their relaxing members steep 

In soft oblivion of repose. 



IX. 

THE 

PEOPHECT OF THEOCLTMENUS THE SEEK. 



ODYSSEY, Book XX. 345—374. 



[Theocltmenus was the prototype of the jongleurs, or 
wandering minstrels, men of good blood, ready to kill 
their man, or to sing in bower and hall, or to predict 
coming events, — or, in fact, to do any thing that irre- 
gular genius, backed by a courage not to be daunted 
but by the prospect of labour of any kind, has ever 
delighted in. Welcome guests they were wherever 
they turned their footsteps ; bold was their bearing, 
high their claims to birth and rank, ready their hand 
in brawl or combat ; but they sate ever at the tables of 
others. It might be instructive, certainly, if well done — 
it would be extremely amusing to compare the manners 
of all classes of the Homeric characters with those of 
the period which immediately followed what we call 
the dark ages, and preceded immediately the days when 
reviving literature heralded our present system of 



206 HOMERIC BALLADS. 

civilised life. We could find in them every character 
of the Iliad and Odyssey. But the votes sacer did not 
arise. Properly to perform the task at which I have 
hinted would require more research and knowledge 
than, perhaps, the subject is worth. 
The first appearance of Theoclymenus is extremely gra- 
phic. Telemachus is on the point of weighing from 
Pylos, on his return homeward. I shall leave Pope 
to tell the rest. 

When, lo! a wretch ran breathless to the shore, 

New from his crime, and reeking yet with gore. 

A seer he was, from great Melampus sprung, 

Melampus, who in Pylos flourished long, 

Till, urged by wrongs, a foreign realm he chose, 

Far from the hateful cause of all his woes. 

Neleus his treasures one long year detains; 

As long he groan 'd in Philacus's chains: 

Meantime, what anguish and what rage combined, 

For lovely Pero rack'd his labouring mind! 

Yet 'scap'd he death; and vengeful of his wrong, 

To Pylos drove the lowing herds along : 

Then (Neleus vanquished, and consign'd the fair 

To Bias' arms) he sought a foreign air; 

Argos the rich for his retreat he chose ; 

There form'd his empire, there his palace rose. 

From him Antiphates and Mantius came: 

The first begot Oi'cleus great in fame, 

And he Amphiaraus, immortal name ! 

The people's saviour, and divinely wise, 

Beloved by Jove, and him who gilds the skies, 

Yet short his date of life ! by female pride he dies. 

From Mantius Clitus, whom Aurora's love 

Snatch'd for his beauty to the thrones above; 

And Polyphides, on whom Phoebus shone 

With fullest rays, Amphiaraus now gone; 



THEOCLYMEISrUS THE SEER. 207 

In Hyperesia's groves he made abode, 
And taught mankind the counsels of the god. 
From him sprung Theoclymenus, who found 
(The sacred wine yet foaming on the ground) 
Telemachus : whom, as to heaven he prest 
His ardent vows, the stranger thus addrest. 

O thou! that dost thy happy course prepare 
"With pure libations and with solemn prayer; 
By that dread power to whom thy vows are paid; 
By all the lives of these ; thy own dear head, 
Declare sincerely to no foe's demand 
Thy name, thy lineage, and paternal land. 

Prepare, then, said Telemachus, to know 
A tale from falsehood free, not free from woe. 
From Ithaca, of royal birth, I came, 
And great Ulysses (ever honour'd name!) 
"Was once my sire, though now for ever lost, 
In Stygian gloom he glides a pensive ghost! 
"Whose fate inquiring through the world we rove; 
The last, the wretched proof of filial love. 
The stranger then. Nor shall I aught conceal, 
But the dire secret of my fate reveal. 
Of my own tribe an Argive wretch I slew; 
"Whose powerful friends the luckless deed pursue 
With unrelenting rage, and force from home 
The bloodstain'd exile, ever doom'd to roam. 
But bear, oh bear me o'er yon azure flood! 
Receive the suppliant! spare my destin'd blood! 

Stranger (replied the prince), securely rest 
Affianced in our faith; henceforth our guest. 
Thus affable, Ulysses' godlike heir 
Takes from the stranger's hand the glittering spear: 
He climbs the ship, ascends the stern with haste, 
And by his side the guest accepted placed. 

It would be useless to point out the hundred minor inac- 
curacies in these lines. What those who read Pope 
and Homer together materially complain of, is the 






208 HOMERIC BALLADS. 

total discrepancy of thought and feeling between the 
poet and his translator. In the above, I shall only- 
give one instance. Theoclymenus has fled Argos — 
avdpa mTciKTas — ' haying killed a man/ Homer says 
nothing further — it was an accident that might happen 
to any gentleman of the best regulated family, and 
entailed neither disgrace nor remorse. Times had 
altered between the days of Agamemnon and Anne, 
and those plain words gave way, for 

When, lo! a wretch ran breathless to the shore, 
New from his crime, and reeking yet with gore ; 

which, by the way, he could not have been, as he had 
come from Argos to Pylos. After the prophet has 
carefully ascertained who it is he addresses, from a due 
caution lest the stranger might be one of the kindred 
of the slain man, he at once says, on learning that 
Telemachus was absent from home, * I, too, as you are, 
am out of my country, in consequence of having killed 
a man of my tribe/ Not a word of its being 'the 
dire secret of his fate/ or of ( the luckless deed/ or of 
'the unrelenting rage' of the relations of the dead 
(whose determination to kill him in return he would 
have considered perfectly correct) : still less does he 
call his antagonist 'an Argive wretch/ or himself 'a 
bloodstained exile/ Those are ideas of a totally differ- 
ent state of society. Theoclymenus had killed a man 
of his own rank — nothing could be more regular; 
the relations of the slain vowed mortal vengeance — 



THEOCLYMENUS THE SEER. 209 

regular again ; and the prophet, not having power to 
oppose them, fled. Every thing was conducted with 
the strictest propriety ; and Telemachus, the 7re7rwfjL6vos 9 
with equal propriety, receives the man in difficulties 
without a word. On their arrival in Ithaca, the prince 
proposes to go to the farm in the country, while his 
sailors make for the town; on which, according to 
Pope, 

Then Theoclymeims : But who shall lend, 
Meantime, protection to thy stranger friend? 
Straight to the queen and palace shall I fly, 
Or yet, more distant, to some lord apply? 

Protection? Fly? To some lord apply? This from 
Theoclymenus, of the house of Neleus by the female 
line ; of Melampus by the male ; a cousin of Nestor, 
* the great glory of the Grecians,' and of the warrior- 
prophet Amphiaraus, 'who perished at Thebes, be- 
trayed for gifts bestowed on a woman;' connected, of 
course, with the noblest of the heroic houses — he ask 
to what lord he should apply f as if he was a poet of 
modern day, looking for a subscription: or inquire, 
after having received the plighted friendship of Tele- 
machus, whether he should fly for protection to his 
mother ! The prophet said nothing of the kind. i (You 
are going to the country, your crew to the town.) 
Where, then, am I to go, my dear boy? Shall I go 
to the houses of any of the men who bear sway in 
craggy Ithaca, or straight to your mother and your 
H.B. 14 



210 HOMERIC BALLADS. 

own house ? ' This is the version of the Greek word 
for word : in modern phrase, ' As I see you are en- 
gaged in business of your own, where am I to dine and 
sleep ? Shall I stop at the house of any of your friends, 
among the surrounding gentry, or go straight and call 
upon your mother, and put up at yours at once V 
They soon after vowed eternal friendship, in conse- 
quence of the favourable interpretation given by the 
seer to an omen ; and the stranger is instantly recom- 
mended to the care of a particular friend, with whom 
he soon makes himself quite at home (Od. xvn. 71-84). 
He, of course, is present at the fatal banquet given 
by the suitors, and there pronounces his prophetic 
malediction. Ctesippus had flung the foot of an ox, 
which he took off the table, at Ulysses, and missed him 
(could we not find, without going so far as the heroes 
of Odin, similar traits of manners elsewhere ?), which 
called forth the angry rebuke of Telemachus, and the 
mild remonstrance of Agelaus, one of the suitors. 
The last insult had now been offered, and the hour of 
their fate was at hand. It came upon them in the 
midst of revel, when they were full of bread. Even 
Maximus Tyrius grows poetical in his criticism on this 
passage : — f Seest thou not the suitors engaged together 
in youthful pleasures, eating fat goats, filling them- 
selves with tender kids, listening to the sound of 
music, mixing wine, amusing themselves with quoits, 
and flinging javelins in sport ? Who would not have 



THEOCLYMENUS THE SEER. 211 

pronounced them happy in the midst of their gaiety ? 
5But the seer, inspired with a full knowledge of the 
future, says, "Wretched men, what evil is this?" &c; 
for the evil was at their feet, and hard by.'] 



14-2 



212 ODYSSEY. XX. 345-357. 

iyj"NH2THP2I U UaWas 'Aejvr, 

'AafiecrTov <yeXeo wpae, irapewXay^ev ce 
vorjfxa. 
01 o rjorj yvaOjUoicri yeXotcov aXXoTpioKTiv^)' 

A\/uo(p6pvKTa 06 orj Kpea rjaQiov* bacre 5' apa 

(Tfpecov 
AaKpvo(piv 7ri/UL7r\avT0' yoov o colbto Ovfxo^. 
ToTcrt ce Kal ixeTeenre Q6okXv/ul6vo$ Oeoeicrjs' 

A ceiXol, tl kclkov toog 7raa^6T6 ; VVKTl juev 

vfxecov 
EtXi/aTa/ K6(pa\ai Te irpoacoira re vepOe re 

yovvai?). 



Oljmcoyrj ce cecrje CecaKpvvTai ce irapeial' 
Ai/xart o eppdcctTcu toluol kclXcli tg juLecroo/jLaL' 



JLidcoXwv ce irXeov irpodvpoV) TrXeirj ce Kal av\rj, 
lefxevcov ' EpefioaSe vrro %6(poV tjeXios ce 
Qvpavov €^airoX(joX6^ KaKYj b" 67no€opofi6v a^Xus. 



THEOCLYMENTJS THE SEER. 213 



AS Pallas bade, the suitor train 
Into mad fits of mirth are thrown ; 
You scarce had deemed the jaws they strain — 
So fierce the laughter — were their own. 

2 
The flesh they eat with blood o'erflows, 

With gushing tears are filled their eyne; 
And, while each heart impending woes 

Presaged, uprose the seer divine. 

3 
'What is the fate of evil doom 

Now threatening you, unhappy race? 
I see that night in thickest gloom 

Wraps every limb, and form, and face. 

4 
' Outbursts like fire the voice of moan, 

Drowned are your cheeks with sorrow's flood; 
And every wall and pillared stone 

Is soaked and dabbled in your blood. 

5 
' Through hall and porch, full many a ghost 

Crowds towards the mansion of the dead; 
The sun from out the heavens is lost, 

And clouds of darkness rushing spread/ 



214 ODYSSEY. XX. 358-370. 

*n tf u. a*. « ^' »' ' * • » ** «^ ' 

11$ e(pau oi o apa wavT€$ eir avrcp rjcv ye- 

\acrcrav. 

Toictlv o JLvpvixayos, Uo\v(3ov irais, *]px o\yo- 

peveiv* 

'Acppatvei %€ivo9 veov uWoQev eiXrjkovOcos. 
'AXXa fjiiv al\|/a, veoi 9 cojuov eKireix^aade 6vpa(e 
EI9 ayoprjv epyeaOai' eirel ra^e vvkti etcr/cei( 3 ). 

Tov o avre irpocreenre QeoKXvjmevos Oeoewrjs* 
EfjOi/^a^, ov tic avcoya €fioi 7rojUL7rrja$ orra- 

Eia* fxoi o<p9aXfxoi re kol ovara kcu ir6ce$ a/ucpa) 
Hal voo$ ev GTYiQeaai TCTvyfxevos ovoe deucris. 

01$ €£€l/ULL VVpa{jE 9 €7T€L V060) KCLKOV VJULjULLV 
'EpX01UL€VOV, TO K6V OVTL$ V7T€K<pVy0l OVO dXeaiTO 

M.vr}CTTrjp(j0v, 



di oaJ/xa kcit dvTiQeov 'OSvarjos 
'Avepas vj3pi^ovT€$ ctTaaOaXa ixYiyavdaaQe* 



THEOCLYMENUS THE SEER. 215 

6 
He ceased, and they with jocund cheer 

Into glad peals of laughter broke. 
Eurymachus addressed the seer, 

And thus in taunting accents spoke : 

7 
' Mad is the new-come guest. 'Tis meet 

Instant to take him from our sight, 
And lead him to the public street 

Since he mistakes the day for night/ 

" 8 
Then thus replied the seer divine : 

' From thee no guide shall I request, 
For eyes, and ears, and feet, are mine, 

And no weak soul inspires my breast ( 4 ). 

9 
f Then from this fated house I go ; 

Swift comes the destined vengeance on; 
None shall escape the deadly blow 

Of all the suitors — no, not one. 

10 
' Not one of those, who now so long 

Have in this mansion held control, 
With words of insult on the tongue, 

And schemes of baseness in the soul/ 



216 ODYSSEY. XX. 371-374. 



*Q$ €i7rctiv e^rjkOe cojulwv evvaieraovTaov' 

''Ik€TO O €9 TleipOLlOV, 6 [XtV 7rp0(pp(t)V V7T€0€KTO. 

M.vt]GTrjpes o ixpa 7rdvTes kv aWqXovs opocovres 
TrjXejua'Xov epeOifyv, ewl %€ivoi$ «ye\ocui/Tes. 



THEOCLYMENUS THE SEER. 217 

11 
He went; and as a welcome guest, 

Piraeus' friendly halls he found. 
The suitors, at the dizzy feast, 

Each on the other glanced around; 
And turned the stranger into jest, 

Telemachus's heart to wound. 



NOTES. 



Note (l). p. 212. 

Ot 8' rjdrj yvaOfiolcn yeXoiW dWoTplouriv. 

Malis ridentem alienis. I have endeavoured to give 
what became the popular proverbial meaning of this phrase 
in Greece, and among the Romans, who interpreted 
Homer according to the more modern Grecians. They 
laughed so immoderately, and so unsparingly of their 
jaws, that we should not have thought them their own. 
They laughed as with other men's jaws, as people are 
sometimes charged with riding other men's horses, at a 
different pace from that to which they put their own. But 
I cannot help thinking the interpretation of Eustathius, 
that 'laughing with foreign jaws,' is something of the 
same kind of phrase as axptiov iyeXaacre. She (Penelope ; 
it occurs Od. 2. 162) laughed not merely 'uselessly,' but 
in a manner that, so far from affording pleasure or use, 
was precisely of the contrary description. The suitors 
were evidently drunk, and did not know what they 
laughed or cried about. Here we have them roaring 
immoderately in laughter; but the jaws with which they 
laughed were no longer under their control, — they were 
as the jaws of other men. In the next line, their eyes 
are filled with tears, and an indefinable fear of misfortune 
falls upon them. The Pallas Athene, who had made 
their minds to wander (1. 346) was the deity who lay at 
the bottom of the flagons of wine they had been carous- 
ing. The conduct of the whole party in all particulars 
shews that they did not know what they were saying or 



THEOCLYMENUS THE SEER. 219 

doing; and they, therefore, fall easy, and indeed almost 
unresisting, victims to Ulysses. 

Note (2). p. 212. 

EiAvarat K€<fia\aL re 7rp6(TG)7ra re vepde re yovva. 

I have translated after yv la, the reading of Plato. 

Note (3). p. 214. 

Els ayoprjv epxeaOai' eVel rdde vvkt\ ii'vicei. 

There has been some difference of opinion about this 
] passage. I think the meaning is plain. ' This fellow is 
I mad. Send him away from us, into the street or market, 
where people congregate : it is necessary that he should 
f be guided by the testimony of others, as he thinks that 
• this is night. They will tell him it is day *.' 



Note (4). p. 215. 

And no weak soul inspires my breast. 

Unguided, hence my trembling steps I bend. — Pope. 

It is amusing to see how this misconception runs 
i through all his translation. 



[* The reply seems to shew that Eurymachus does not pretend 
to think of undeceiving Theoclymenus by the testimony of others, 
so much as of seeing him safely conveyed to some public thorough- 
fare. Dr Maginn had written, ' Instant to chase him from our 
sight,' which, with the following line, has been altered accordingly. 
4 Ed.] 



X. 

THE STORY OF THE SWINEHERD. 



ODYSSEY, Book XV. 389-483. 



[Ulysses, after having given a most mendacious account 
of himself, inquires from the hospitable swineherd the 
history of Ms adventures. The manner in which he 
introduces his inquiry gives a pleasant picture of the 
ordinary adventures of the time. Eumseus had told 
him that he was reared from childhood as a slave in 
the household of Laertes; on which Ulysses says, — 
* How strange it is, swineherd Eumeeus, that you were 
tossed abroad to wander away from your country and 
your parents while still a child. Tell me, then, and 
accurately relate, was the broad-streeted city sacked 
in which your father and venerable mother dwelt ? or 
did pirates carry you off in their vessels, finding you 
left alone among the sheep or oxen, and sell you to 
this master, who paid for you the regular price ?' 
There is something truly businesslike in the manner 
of this inquiry. 6 And the swineherd, chief of men, 
immediately replied ' — ] 



222 ODYSSEY. XV. 390-399. 



'^mf EIN', 67reJ ap or) ravrd fx dveipeai fjSe fxe- 

raXXcts, 
2*iyr] vvv gvviei kcli Tepireo Tnve % T6 oivov> 
''Hfxevos* 



aide ce vvktcs aueaCparoi eaTt fxev evoeiv, 
Ecrrt ce Tep7rojjLevoLcriv dicoveiv' 



ovoe TL C€ XP^i 
TLplv wprj 9 KCLTaXeyQai* avir\ teat 7roXi/$r virvos. 
Twv o aWcov OTiva Kpaoit] kcu Qvfxos avcoyei, 
E^gtw e^ekQdv* dfxa o r\ol (paivofievrjipiv 



Aenrvrjaas, ctfji veaoiv dvaKTopirjcrtv eireaOu). 
Nw/ 6 ev\ kKictlyi irivovTe re oaipvfxevco re 
Krjoeaiv dWrjXwj/ TepTrwfxeOa XevyakeoiGiv, 



STORY OF THE SWINEHERD. 223 



STRANGER, if it be thy will 
My life's whole course to know, 
Listen in silence seated still, 
While with my tale the hours I fill, 
Over the goblet's flow. 

2 
The long and tedious night's career 

Leaves time enough for sleep, 
Enough a pleasant tale to hear, 
Which those who lend attentive ear 

From slumber dull will keep. 

3 
Repose not till the hour assigned; 

Much sleep is sorry cheer. 
Let him who feels of drowsier mind, 
Departing outward, lie reclined, 

Until the morn appear. 



When, with the porkers of his lord, 

He from his meal may go ; 
We, seated here beside the board, 
Eating and drinking, will record 
Each other's tales of wo. 



224 ODYSSEY. XV. 400-411. 



M.vwojul€V(jo' juera yap re kcll aXy cgl Tepirerai 

avrjp, 
'Oar is crj /ud\a iroXXci 7rd9rj kcu ttoXX! €7raXf]0fj. 
Tovto ce tol epevO) 6 jul dveipeai tjSe juL6TaXXa$. 



NJJaos Tig ^vpirj kikXy} enteral, ei ttov aKoveis, 
Oprvyiqs Ka9v7r€p9ev 9 b9i Tpowai rjeXioio, 
Ovri TrepnrkrjQris Xirjv togov, a\\ ayaOrj [xev, 



TLv/3oto$) ebfxrjXos, olvoTrXrjOrjs, iroXvirvpos. 
Yleivrj o 0VTT0T6 crj/uLOV ecrepyeTm, ovSe ti$ aXXrj 
JSovaos Girl GTvyept] TreXeTcti ceiXolai fiporoiGiv* 



AXX ore yrfpaGKOoai ttoXiv Kara (pvX' avOpoo- 

TTtoV, 

'EXOcoi; apyvpoTo<£o$ 'AttoXXoov Aprejunoi i~uv, 
Oh ayavo7$ fieXeeacriv $Troiyoi*.6vo<$ KaTG7r6(pvev, 



STORY OF THE SWINEHERD. 225 

5 
Sweet is, of perils past and o'er, 

The story, treasured well, — 
Of all the sufferings that we bore; 
Our wanderings on a foreign shore, — 

Such as I now shall tell. 

6 
Where turns the sun to set and rise, 

All to Ortygia's north, 
Thou may'st have heard that Syria lies, 
An island of no passing size, 

But excellent of worth. 

7 
With flocks and kine, with corn and wine, 

It is replenished well: 
There never famine makes to pine, 
No maladies to wo consign 

The mortals there who dwell. 

8 
When to the years that suit the tomb 

Its aged sons attain, 
Then Artemis and Phoebus come, 
The Archer-gods, to seal their doom, 

By painless arrows slain. 

h.b. 15 



226 ODYSSEY. XV. 412-420. 



''Ei/0a o voo 7rd\i6$ 9 ci^a ce <r(f)i(Ti irdvra cecaaTai ' 
Trjaiv 6 ajmCporeprjai irarr^p 6/ulos efxfiaa'tXevev, 
Kt^ctios 'Opuevlcris, e7riet.KeXo$ dOavdroiaiv. 



tf Ev6a ce <$>oiviK€$ vavdiKXvToi r]XvQov dvcpes, 
TpcoKTCU, jULvpi a 7 ovres aOvp^xara vrji (JieXaivrj. 



,f RcFK6 ce irarpos ejUioTo yvvYJ <f>owiacf evl oikw, 
HaXtf re fxeyaXrj Te teal dyXad epy eicula' 



Trjv o dpa <$>oivuces 7roXv7rai7raXoi rjirepo7revov' 
TlXwovarj n$ 7rpcora fuyrj, KoiXrf irapa vrji 9 
Ei/y*} Kai (piXorrjTi' 



STORY OF THE SWINEHERD. 227 

9 
Two are its cities, and the land 

'Twixt them is parted free; 
O'er both my sire with regal hand, 
Ctesius, the godlike, held command; 

Of Ormenus son was he. 

10 
And often the Phoenicians sought 

This island o'er the main. 
And their ship-famed men of wily thought 
Full many a toy in the galleys brought, 

To barter there for gain. 

11 
There chanced in my father's house to be 

A woman of their land; 
And tall was she, and fair to see, 
And in works of art right skilfully 

Practised was she of hand. 

12 
Her beauty made her fall a prey 

To sailor arts ere long; 
To bathe when she had ta'en her awa}', 
In a seaman's arms in the ship she lay, 
Won by his glozing tongue. 

15—2 



228 ODYSSEY. XV. 421-436. 

Tare (ppevas Yiirepoirevei 
QrjXvTeprjai yvvai^i, Kal yj k evepyos erjcriv. 

RptoTCt Or} €7T6lTa 9 TLS Glf] KCtl 7r66€V eXOoi* 
*H 06 HaX' CLVTIKCL irCLTpOS €7T€<ppa$€V Vyj/€p€(p€$ 

&»• 

' Ek fxev 2focoi/o9 ttoXv^clXkov ev^o/xat elvai' 
Hovptj 6 e'tfji ApvpavTos eyw pvcov dfpveioio* 
AXXa /ul dvrj pira^av Tdcpioi, XrjiGTopes av$pe$ 9 
'AypoOev epyoixevriv* irepacrav ce re Sevp' dya- 

yovT€$ 
ovc avopos irpos cwfxav o o a^tov wvov ecco- 

Kev. 

Tr}v o avT€ Trpoaeenrev dvrjp, 69 e/ulcyero XaOpt]' 
' H pa K€ vvv wdXiv avTis aV r\fjuv oikclo ewoio, 
9 0<ppa icrj irarpos kcu ixrjTepos vxj/epeCpes oaJ 



Avtovs t ; r) yap er cial kcu acpveiol KaXeovrai- 
Toy o avre Trpoaeenre yvvr) Kal aixeipero /jlvOw' 
E'lrj Kev Kal tovt y ei pot edeXoire ye, vavrai, 
f, OpK(p 7ri(TTw6rjvai, airriiiovd /ul oikolo dira^eiv. 



STORY OF THE SWINEHERD. 229 

13 
Women are weak: the deftest dame 

By like deceit may fall. 
He asked, Who was she? Whence she came? 
And at once did she as her dwelling name 

My father's high-roofed hall. 

14 
'Rich Sidon is my native source, 

Rich Arybas my sire : 
As from the fields I bent my course, 
I by a Taphian pirate-force 
Was seized, and here, without remorse, 

Sold for the stated hire/ 

15 

Spoke then the man, in whose embrace 

She secretly had lain: 
' Wilt thou with us thy path retrace, 
To see once more thy natal place, 

Thy parents' home again, 

16 
'Them to see? for they still survive, 

Rich in abundant store/ 
'Be it so; your offer I receive/ 
She said; 'but ye some pledge must give 

To bring me safe to shore. 



230 ODYSSEY. XV. 437-447. 

'Qs €<pa6 ' o\ o apa 7rai/re9 eiroofxvvov 9 cos e/ce- 

Xevev. 
Avrap €7T6i p 6/jLoaav tc TeXevTYjaav re tov 

bptcov, 

ToLS O CIVTLS fJL6T€ei7T6 yVVtj KCU ajUL€l/3€TO JULV0(p' 



^iyrj vvv 9 fxY\ tis ^e irpoaavodrco eTreeacnv 
Y /merepcov erdpoov, ^vjuj3\y]fxeuos r\ ev ayvirj, 
11 7rov eiri Kprjvrj 



fixqTis woti ocofxa yepovri 
'EXOcov €(~6L7rr}' 6 6 otadfxevos KaTaorjari 
AecrjUfp ev dpyaXeco, vjjllv o eiriCppaaaeT bXe- 
6pov. 



'AW* eyeT ev (ppeal julvOov, eireiyere o covov 

ocaicov. 
'AXX* ore K6V or} vrjvs TrXeit] /Siotoio yevijTai, 
'AyyeXirj julol eireira 6ooo$ e§ cco/maO* \icea6co* 



STORY OF THE SWINEHERD. 231 

17 
6 Swear this with solemn oath and true, 

And, sailors, yours am 1/ 
Then, as she bade, did all the crew 
Take the firm oath in manner due, 

And duly ratify. 

18 
'Be secret now/ the woman cried; 

' Should any from the ship 
Henceforth to meet with me betide, 
In market wide, or at fountain side, 

Be closed to me his lip; 

19 
'Lest some one to my master old 

Should our discourse betray; 
And he, suspecting from what is told, 
Should bind me fast in prison hold, 

And plot your crew to slay. 

20 
'But keep the secret safely stored, 

And your purchase of victuals ply : 
When your full stock is laid on board, 
Let some one to me, with speedy word, 

At yonder mansion hie. 



232 ODYSSEY. XV. 448-460. 



O'lcru) yap kcu ^pvaov, oris % viro^elpio^ efy* 
Kcu C6 kcv aXX ewifiaOpov eywv eOeXovad ye 

coirjv. 
Ilaloa yap dvSpos erjos evl fxeydpois CLTiTaXXco, 






>/ 



KepdaXeov o?/ to7ov 9 afxarpo^dcovTa QvpaXe* 
Toi/ K€V ay 01(1 €7Tl ^09* o o vjuuv juvpiov wvov 
AX<poi, brrri 7repaarjT€ /caT aXXoOpoovs avOpoo- 

7TOV$. 



ri /xei; a^o cos €lttovg airepri irpos oiojxaTa KaAa. 
01 o eviavrov airavTa Trap r\[Civ av6t (xevovres 
Ev 1/171 yXa<pvpri fiiorov 7roXvv einroXowvTo* 
AXX ore crj KoiXrj vrjvs rj^Oero toigi vecaOaiy 
at tot ap ayyeKov rjtcav, 



o$ ayyeiXeie yvvaiKi. 
' RXv9* dvrjp TroXiiiopis ejuov wpo\ oco/xaTa 7rarpos, 
Xpuaeov opjuov eyow, jmeTd o riXltiTpoiarw eepTo' 



STORY OF THE SWINEHERD. 233 

21 
'And gold with me I shall surely bear, 

Whatever to hand may come; 
And with willing mind, as a passage fare, 
Shall bring you the boy whom as nurse I rear 

In that rich man's house at home. 

22 
'He now can run abroad by my side, 

And the child is sharp and smart; 
Him then shall I to your vessel guide, 
And a handsome price he will sure provide, 

When sold at a foreign mart/ 

23 
She said, and then the house she sought: 

In the isle for a year they staid. 
Provision in store for their ship they bought, 
And when the vessel was fully fraught, 

Their messenger was sped. 

24 
Crafty was he whom the sailors sent 

To take the message sure ; 
To my father's house his way he bent, 
And a necklace of gold with amber blent 

He brought with him as a lure. 



234 ODYSSEY. XV. 461-474. 



ov fiev ao ev ueyaoio o. 



ov fiev ap ev fxeyapw cjuuuai Kac irorvia jurjrrjp 
Xepaiv t a/UL<pa(pQcovTo ical cxpOakjuoiaiv opcovro, 
'Qvov VTTKjyofxevai' 



6 ce Trj Karevevae ai(07rri. 
'Htoi 6 Kctvvevaas KoiXrjv eVi vrja jSejS^/cet* 
H 6 €/ulg X €L P° 9 eXovaa cojulwv e^qye QvpaXe' 
vpe o evi TrpooojULW rj/jiev oeira rjoe Tpaire^as 
'Avcpwv caLTVLiovtov, di llgv irarep auL(peirevovro — 



0\ KL€V hp 69 0WKOV TT p6 [KoXoV > Of] jULOLO T€ (prjfJLLV 

H $ ou^/a rpc aXeiaa KaTaKpvyl/acr vtto koXttw 
EK(pep€v' avTap eywv eirofxY\v aeaicppoavvrjatv. 



AvaeTO r qeXios, gkiooovto re 7raaai ayviai* 
*Hfxe7$ 6 €9 XijULeva kXvtov rfXQojxev (vkcl klovtcs, 
* Ev9 apa <$>olvikwv avcpcov rjv wicvaXos vtjvs. 
Oi fxev €7T€lt avafiavres eireirXeov vypa KeXeuOa, 
No5 avaj3y]Ga(JL€i>0L' 



STORY OF THE SWINEHERD. 235 

25 
With searching hand and longing eye, 

My mother and her train 
Did there, as he stood in the palace, try 
The trinket, promising to buy, 

For its beauty made them fain. 

26 
He winked at the woman, and went his way, 

Thus having made the sign. 
With my hand in hers, I was led away, 
Through the porch where many a goblet lay, 

Left where they had met to dine. 

27 
My father had gone with every guest, 

The public court to keep; 
And she hid three goblets under her vest, 
And I, with a foolish mind possessed, 

Followed her to the deep. 

28 
Down sank the sun, and dark was the street, 

And soon we came to the bay, 
Where lay the Phoenician galley fleet; 
They put us on board, and at once we beat 

Fast over the watery way. 



236 ODYSSEY. XV. 475-484. 

€7TL 06 Z,€VS OVpOV 'idWeV. 

'Efyyiap l*-ev ojAws ifKeojxev vuktcis tg kcli r}fiap' 
AW* ore crj eficofiov fjfxap eirl Zei;? Orjice Kpo- 

VIWV 9 

T?Tjv fxev €7T€LTa yvvaiKa 



/3a\' 'A precis loyeaipa* 
'AvtXw o evoovTTYiae Trecrova cos eivaXir] KY]^ 
Kal rrjv (lev (pwKrjai nai i^Guai KVpfxa yeveaQai 
*E/c/3a\oi/' 

avrap eyco Xnroixrjv, aKa^rj fievos r\rop. 
Tovs s * 'lOaKrj eireXacrae (pepcov ave/uos re Kal 

vocop* 
' Ev6a fxe Aaeprrjs irpiaTo Kreareaaiv eoicriu. 
Ovro) rrivoe re yaiav eycov ioov ocpdakfxoia'iv. 



STORY OF THE SWINEHERD. 237 

29 
Fair was the wind, vouchsafed by Jove; 

Six days before the blast, 
Day and night, in constant course, we drove ; 
But the seventh day was doomed to prove 

That guilty woman's last. 

.30 
Her Artemis' fatal arrows slew ; 

And with a noisy force, 
She fell as plump as sea-coots do, 
Into the sink, and then they threw 

To the seals and fish her corse. 

31 
And sadly I was left behind; 

But soon to Ithaca's shore 
Wafted were we by wave and wind; 
To Laertes by sale was I consigned; — 

And now my tale is o'er. 



*#* I had intended to have written a few notes on the 
above, but, on reflection, I do not wish to encumber my 
readers with too much Greek. In brief, then, I have only 
to say, that though I have translated vecr<riv dvaKropl-qpiv 
( porkers of his lord/ according to the ordinary interpre- 
tation, I think the latter word has no connexion with ava% ; 
that Buttmann, as usual, is a blockhead, about dOecrcparos, 
which merely means cursed, as we say a cursedly long 
night ; that Tpoircu, 1. 403, is a corruption — I have rendered 
it according to the best interpretation I could find, and 
the commentators on the passage, who find Homer guilty 
of geographical or astronomical mistakes, are very foolish 
persons ; that there is a line wanting after 1. 423 ; that 
vavrai should be vavTa, 1. 435 ; that 437 is an interpolation ; 
that ojiovav and reXevrrjo-av, 1. 438, should be in the singu- 
lar number ; that cos, 1. 479, perhaps, should be (prj ; and 
that Turnebus's note on dyavols is trash, though backed 
by Heraclides Ponticus, and, in a measure, adopted by 
Clarke. Also, for dncopwov, 1. 437, read irrcopwov, after 
the manuscript collated by Thomas Bentley; and, meo 
pericuh, for aparpoxocovTa, 1. 451, which has, in Eustathius, 
the various reading of SfioTpoxocovra, read olorpoxocovra, 
6 running alone/ 

What a commentary could be written on the story 
beginning with 1. 415, and ending with 484! Does any 
thing connected with human life change? All this story 
of Eumseus might have occurred on the coasts of old 
Calibar, in the slave-trade time, and, in spite of the zeal 
and energy of Governor Maclean, may occur at Cape 
Coast even at present. 



XL 
THE BEATEN BEGGARMAN. 



ODYSSEY. Book XYIH. 1-116. 



[The contest of Ulysses and Irus, which occupies the first 
116 lines of the 18th Odyssey, is a favourite passage 
among the ancient critics, who evidently consider it to 
be, what in vulgar, but expressive language, we should 
call a capital piece of fun. Dionysius of Halicarnassus 
is inclined to trace to it the origin of comedy. ' Hence 
[from Homer], perhaps, comedy had its origin. In the 
midst of his gravest and most sublime matters, we find 
laughter-moving episodes — as, for instance, when the 
beggarman Irus, in the Odyssey, is put up by the dis- 
sipated suitors to challenge the most noble Ulysses 
[yevvaioTaTCd 'oSucro-el] to a boxing match, and turns 
out to be only fit for laughing at.' Some philosophy 
follows, not worth translating. Eustathius chuckles 
over the incident, though he is bound to think it not 
consistent with epic dignity. The poet, he remarks, 
who is grim (o-Kv0pco7r6s) and rough (aypios) in the 



240 HOMERIC BALLADS. 

Iliad, relaxes into ten thousand jocularities in the 
Odyssey ; as nurses indulge children, so he gives the 
teat to his more tender and simple-minded hearers 
(ydeas tlt0€V€L tovs airakcoTtpovs kcll airXovvTepovs aKpoa- 
ras). This passage of the comment of Eustathius is 
evidently corrupt, but the meaning is as I have given 
it. The many allusions to Irus in the classical authors 
mark the popularity of the incident. 

As I do not believe that Homer is <rKv0pco7r6s or 
aypios in the Iliad, I cannot think that he has deviated 
into good-humoured or rough jocularity in the Odyssey, 
for the benefit of the babes and sucklings of literature. 
The scene in the second book of the Iliad, where 
Ulysses belabours the impudent Thersites with a 
cudgel — for the arKrJ7rrpov of the heroic ages was no- 
thing more — is essentially of the same character as 
the belabouring of the impudent Irus with his fists, in 
the Odyssey. He rebuked the one as a king, chas- 
tising an inferior with authority undisputed; the 
other, his disguised condition compelled him to meet 
as an equal, and to punish, not as invested with any 
conventional superiority, but as the man of courage 
punishes the coward. In both cases the braggart is 
the victim of his own insolence, and the feeling of the 
poet is in both identical. 

What is and what is not epic and poetic dignity 
would waste a long volume to discuss. One thing is, 
however, very observable. Homer, iEschylus, Dante, 



THE BEATEN BEGGARMAN. 241 

Shakspere, Milton — I pass the inferior names of He- 
siod, Euripides, Sophocles, Ariosto, Calderon, Camoens, 
Goethe, and a score of others — have been vehemently 
accused of bad taste, in admitting puns and trivial 
incidents into their poems. Many very respectable 
authors and critics have been so good as to extenuate, 
because they could not defend, practices so reprehen- 
sible. Did it ever strike these gentlemen, that what 
to the greatest minds of the world appeared not incon- 
sistent with their splendid reveries, might not need 
defence, or regard attack from the meanest minds in 
that same world, viz. the critics of goUt f No ! That 
would be the last thought to cross the self-sufficient 
brains of the self-constituted authorities of 'polite 
literature/ 

In the following lines, Irus, a town-beggar, sees 
Ulysses, disguised as a mendicant, at the housegate of 
the royal residence of Ithaca, and wishes to drive off 
the intruder on his dues. The suitors indulge in the 
amusement of seeing the two beggarmen fight; and 
the result is consistent with poetic justice. I fear that 
in real life the sturdy beggar is not always unsuccess- 
ful against the true man.] 



H.B. 



16 



242 ODYSSEY. XVIII. 1-11. 



^TLXAGE €TTl 7TTWyO$ 7TaVCiy/ULlO$, OS KCIT< 
CMTTV 

YlrwyeveGK \Q<xkyi$ 9 jjieru o eirpeire yaarepi 

fxdpyrj, 
A^^e? <pay€/uL€v kcli 7ri€/uev ovde ol r\v 19 
Ovoe j3lrj' elcos oe paXa ixeyas i\v opdaaOai. 



- 



Apvaios ovo/ul ecr/ce to yap uero tcotvkx fxrjrrjp 
'E/c yeverfjs* 'Ipov oe i>eot klkXyigkov cnrcLVTes, 
ObveK cnrayyeWeGKe kicov, ore irov tis avtvyoc' 
Os p gXOwv Oovafja oicok€To 0X0 dofAOio 



Kai fXLV v€iK€io)v e7rea irrepoevTa 7rpocrjvda' 
El/ce, yepov, 7rpo6vpov, jult] 0^ tcl^cl kcli 7ro$os 

e\/07* 
Owe diets, on cy] julol €7riX\i^ovcriv airavTes, 
EXtie/ULevai oe kgXovtcli ; 



THE BEATEN BEGGARMAK 243 



THERE came the public beggarman, who all 
throughout the town 
Of Ithaca, upon his quest for alms, begged up 

and down; 
Huge was his stomach, without cease for meat 

and drink craved he; 
No strength, no force his body had, though vast 
it was to see. 

2 
He got as name from parent dame, Arnaeus, at 

his birth, 
But Irus was the nickname given by gallants in 

their mirth; 
For he, where'er they chose to send, their speedy 

errands bore, 
And now he thought to drive away Odysseus from 

his door. 



< Depart, old man ! and quit the porch/ he cried, 

with insult coarse, 
'Else quickly by the foot thou shalt be dragged 

away by force : 
Dost thou not see, how here on me, their eyes 

are turned by all, 
In sign to bid me stay no more, but drag thee 

from the hall? 

16-2 



244 ODYSSEY. XVIII. 12-24. 



'AW ' 



eyco o aujyyvofxai 6\xity\%. 
ava, firj Taya vuoiv epi$ kcli yepcn yevrjrai. 
ov o ap VTTodpa lccov irpocrecpr] ttoXv/jlyitls 
'Ocucraevs ' 

A/ * if I < HS \ it » > / 

aiiiovi, ovre tl ore peC^w kclkov ovt ayopevtv, 



Obre riva (pOoveco co/ievai, kcll ttoXX avekovra. 
Ovcos o dfx<poT€povs ode yelaeTai * ovoe tl ae yprj 

AWoTpiwV <p9oV€€LV' C0K66LS 06 /ULOl €IV(U dXl]Tr]S, 

''Qcrwep eycov* b\(5ov ce Oeol fxeWovcrtv oira^eiv. 



Xepal ce juLrjTi Xlyjv 7TjOO/ca\^eo, fit] [j.6 yoXwarjs^ 
Mrj a 6 yeptov Trep iwu arrjOos kou yeiXea 

(pvpaco 
Ai/mctros* r\GvyiY\ o av ifxol ical /uaXXov er eirj 
AvpLov* ov IJL6V yap tl cr viroo-Tpey^eadai o'iio 
AevTepov €9 fieyapov Act6pTLct$6U) 'OcW^os. 



THE BEATEN BEGGARMAN. 245 



( 'Tis only shame that holds me back ; so get thee 

up and go ! 
Or ready stand with hostile hand to combat blow 

for blow/ 
Odysseus said, as stern he looked with angry 

glance, 'My friend, 
Nothing of wrong in deed or tongue do I to thee 

intend. 

5 
' I grudge not whatsoe'er is given, how great may 

be the dole, 
The threshold is full large for both; be not of 

envious soul. 
It seems 'tis thine, as well as mine, a wanderer's 

life to live, 
And to the gods alone belongs a store of wealth 

to give. 

6 
'But do not dare me to the blow, nor rouse my 
angry mood; — 
j Old as I am, thy breast and lips might stain my 
hands with blood. 
To-morrow free I then from thee the day in 

peace would spend, 
For never more to gain these walls thy beaten 
limbs would bend/ 



246 ODYSSEY. XVIII. 25-39. 



ToV C6 yo\(i)GaiUL€vo$ 7rpoae(pcov€€v ' I/O09 dXqTrjs* 
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Howtcov d/u(poT€pr]cri) ya/jLCti ce /ce 7rayra9 oooi/Tas 1 
fi/a^/awi/ e^eXacraiiui, avos co$ Xr}ij3oTeipr]^( 2 ). 



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Mapva/uLevovs* 7ra>s o av av vecorepq) dvcpl 

fj.ayoi.0 ; 
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Ovoov €7TL ^ecrTov irapdvimaoov otcpiocovro. 



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^Q (biXoi, OV fX€P 7TC0 Tl TTapOS TOIOVTOP €TVJ(6f] x 

O'iriv TepiruoKriv Oeos rjyayev 69 Tooe ccofxa. 
'O ^eli/os T€ Koi I/009 €pi^€TOV dXXrjXoup 
Xepo*! fxayjiaaaQai' aXXd ^vpeXdaorojULev d>Ka. 



THE BEATEN BEGGARMAN. 247 

7 
'Heavens! how this glutton glibly talks/ the va- 
grant Irus cried; 

* Just as an old wife loves to prate, smoked at the 
chimney side. 

If I should smite him, from his mouth the shat- 
tered teeth were torn, 

As from the jaws of plundering swine, caught root- 
ing up the corn. 

8 

* Come, gird thee for the fight, that they our con- 
test may behold, 

If thou'lt expose to younger arms thy body frail 

and old/ 
So in debate engaged they sate upon the threshold 

stone, 
Before the palace' lofty gate wrangling in angry 

tone. 

9 
Antinous marked, and with a laugh the suitors he 

addressed : 
' Never, I ween, our gates have seen so gay a 

cause of jest ; 
Some god, intent on sport, has sent this stranger 

to our hall, 
And he and Irus mean to fight : so set we on the 

brawl/ 



248 ODYSSEY. XVIII. 40-49. 



tN Qs e(paff * o\ 6 apa naures avrjil^av yeXocovres, 
'Afx<pl o apa tttw^ov^ Kafcoeifiiovas qyepeOovro. 
Toiaiv o 'Avtivoos /mereCpv}, JLvireiQeos v\6s' 
KckXvtc /xev, juvrjcrTrjpes ayrjvopes, b(f)pa tl eiirof 
Taarepes dio alycov Kear ev 7rvpi' 



Taad €7Tl COp7T(p 

KarOe/ixeOa, KVicrrjs T€ ical cujmaTos efXTrXqaavres' 
^QinroTepos oe K€ viKY\<jr) Kpelcracov re yevrjrai, 
Tacoi/ r\v k eQeXriaiv avaaras avros eXecrOco' 
Alel o ait 9* rjixiv fxeraSaicreTai, ov$e riv aXXov 
YItw^ov e aw juLiayeaOai eaarojmep aiTqcrovra. 



THE BEATEN BEGGARMAN. 249 

10 
Gay laughed the guests, and straight arose, on 

frolic errand bound, 
About the ragged beggarmen a ring they made 

around. 
Antinous cries, ' A fitting prize for the combat I 

require, 
Paunches of goat you see are here now lying on 

the fire; 



11 

' 'This dainty food all full of blood, and fat of 

savoury taste, 
Intended for our evening's meal, there to be 

cooked we placed. 
Whichever of these champions bold may chance 

to win the day, 
Be he allowed which paunch he will to choose 

and bear away. 
And he shall at our board henceforth partake 

our genial cheer, 
No other beggarman allowed the table to come 

near.' 



250 ODYSSEY. XVIII. 50-63. 



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Toi9 0€ do\o<ppOV€(x)V fJL€T€<prj iro\v(XY}TL^ 0$VG- 

'Q (piXoi, ou7rws eari vewrepw dvSpl fid^eaOai 
"Avopa yepovra, Svrj dprjimevov' dXXd fxe yaaTYJp^) 
Orpvvei KCLtcoepyos, 'Iva 7rXrjyfjori ^a/me'ico. 

AXX aye vvv fioi iravres ojuioacraTe naprepov 

OpKOVy 

Moris' €7r ' lp(p rjpa (pepcov efxe \eip\ (iapeiti. 
UXtj^rf draaOaXXcov, tovtw oe /me l(pi cafxdaarj. 
\h €<pau 01 c apa iravres aira) fxvvov, cos e/ce- 
Xevev* 

[_AvTap €7T€L f) O/ULOGCLV T€ TeXeVTYjadv T€ tov 

6pKOV^\ 

ens o avTi? fxeTeeKp leprj is 1 ^Ae/uct^oto 



Heli>', el <f orpvvei Kpaolrf kcli $17x09 dyqvoop 
Tovtov dXe<~a(T0ai, twv o aXXcov (xrjnv A^aicov 
AeihO'' e7rel irXeoveacn fna^aerai^ 6's Ke ere Oeivrj. 



THE BEATEN BEGGARMAK 251 

12 
They all agreed, and then upspoke the chief of 

many a wile : 
' Hard is it when ye match with youth age overrun 

with toil; 
The belly, counsellor of ill, constrains me now 

to go, 
Sure to be beaten in the fight with many a heavy 

blow. 

13 
'But plight your troth with solemn oath, that 

none will raise his hand 
My foe to help with aid unfair, while I before 

him stand/ 
They took the covenant it had pleased Odysseus 

to propose; 
And his word to plight the sacred might of Tele- 

machus arose. 

14 

6 If/ he exclaimed, ( thy spirit bold, and thy cou- 
rageous heart 

Should urge thee from the palace gate to force 
this man to part, 

Thou needst not fear that any here will strike a 
fraudful blow; 

Who thus would dare his hand to rear must fight 
with many a foe. 



252 ODYSSEY. XVIII. 64-76. 



AeivocoKos jxev eycov' eirl 6 aiveiTov ftacriXrjes, 
Avtivoos tc Kal JLvpv/uLaxos, TT€7TVVlxeVO) dfXC^Xt). 
*Q? e(pa9 '• oi c apa TrdvTes eirriveov* avrap 

Odvatfevs 
ZaxraTo (jl€v pa,K€criv ire pi jm^oea, (fxxlve ce fxrjpovs 
KaXovs re fxeyaXovs re y (pdvev ce oi evpees wjuoi 



^LrrjOea re crrifiapoi re /3pa^L0ve9' avrap 'AOrjvrj 
1 Ayyi TrapiGTafxevr] nxeXe iyXcave iroifxevi Xatov. 
T^lvrjarrjpes o apa 7rdvres vwep(piaX(*)$ dydaavro* 



'Qce ce ris e'lirecKev^ ivcov es irXrjGiov aXXov* 
? H rdya ^Ipo? ''A'ipos ( 4 ) eiricnracrrov /ca/coV e£er 
Oiqv etc paiceoov o yepoov eirLyovvioa (paivet. 
C Q? ap ecbav" * Ipio ce /ca/cw wpivero Gvfxos. 
'AXXa Kal o)9 ^prjarfjpes ayov tyaavres avaytcrj, 
Aewiora • 



THE BEATEN BEGGARMAN. 253 

15 
* Upon me falls within these halls the stranger's 

help to be; 
Antinous and Eurymachus, both wise, will join 

with me/ 
All gave assent, and round his loins his rags 

Odysseus tied: 
Then was displayed each shoulderblade of ample 

form and wide. 

16 
His shapely thighs of massive size were all to 

sight confessed, 
So were his arms of muscle strong, so was his 

brawny breast; 
Athene close at hand each limb to nobler stature 

swelled ; 
In much amaze did the suitors gaze, when they 

his form beheld. 

17 

'Irus un-Irused now/ they said, 'will catch his 
sought-for wo, 

Judge by the hips which from his rags this old 
man stripped can shew/ 

And Irus trembled in his soul; but soon the ser- 
vants came, 

Girt him by force, and to the fight dragged on his 
quivering frame. 



254 ODYSSEY. XVIII. 77-88. 



capites oe irepiTpofxeovTo jueXecraw. 

'AVTIVOOS O €V6VL7TT€V €7TO$ T €(f>aT €K T OVO- 

N?i/ fxev \xy\t eii/s, j3ovya'i€ 9 jjLrjTe yevoio, 
Ei crj tovtov ye Tpoiueeis Kai oel6ia$ aivws, 
Avopa yepovra, cvrj aprffxevov^ r\ (jllv ikclvbi. 



AXX €K TOL epeto, TO Oe Kai T€T€A€G^LeVOV €GTCll 

A\ K€V <x ovtos viKfjarj Kpeiaacov re yevrjTcu, 
YlejuLyj/co a i]7r€ipovc€( 5 ), (3a\cov kv vrp. fxeXaivri, 
E19 ' E^erov (iadiXrja, ppoTwv orfXrifxova ttclvtcjoV) 



e O9 /c airo plva Tajntjcri Kai obara VYJXei yaXKw 
M^'oea t e^epvcras cwrj kvgiv wfxd odcraaQai. 
'Qs <pdro' Tip €tl fixdXXov vtto Tpo/JLos eXXafie 
yvia* 
ks fxecrcrov o avayov 



THE BEATEN BEGGARMAK 255 

18 
There as he shook in every limb, Antinous spoke 

in scorn: 
''Twere better, bullying boaster, far, that thou 

hadst ne'er been born, 
If thus thou quake and trembling shake, o'ercome 

with coward fear, 
Of meeting with this aged man, worn down with 

toil severe. 

19 

6 1 warn thee thus, and shall perform full surely 
what I say, 

If, conqueror in the fight, his arm shall chance to 
win the day, 

Epirus-ward thou hence shalt sail, in sable bark, 
consigned 

To charge of Echetus the king, terror of all man- 
kind. 

20 
* He'll soon deface all manly trace with unrelenting 

steel, 
And make thy sliced-off nose and ears for hungry 

dogs a meal/ 
He spoke, and with those threatening words filled 

Irus with fresh dread ; 
And trembling more in every limb, he to the midst 

was led. 



256 ODYSSEY. XVIH. 89-99. 



to) o aixtpo) yeipas aveayov. 

Alt] TOT6 IJL€p/ULripl<£6 7roXvTXa$ mo? '0$V<TG€VS 9 

, H eXacrei , w fuv ^j/vyrj Xlttol av9i irecrovTa, 
He jullv rjfc e\acreie( 6 ) Tavuacreiev r €7rl yairj. 
*Qoe oe o\ (ppoveovri. coaaactTo nepoiov elvai 
9 Hk eAacrat, 



\va fj.rj [xiv eiritppaGCTaiaT Ayaioi* 
Arj tot avaayofx€V(o 9 6 jmev rjXacre ce^iov mjjlov 
ipos, o o avyev eXacraev wir ovcltos, ocrTea o 



eicrco 



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avTLKa o jjA^e Kara aTo/ma (polviov at/ma' 

ad 67T60" €V KQVIY\<JI [XCIKCOV, GVV O tjXctG 
OOOVTCLS, 

AaKTiXtov irocrl ycuav' aTctp ixvyivtyj pes dyavol 
Xe7jOa9 avaayo/mevoi yeXw 'etcOavov. 



THE BEATEN BEGGARMAN. 257 

21 
Both raised their hands, and then a doubt passed 

through Odysseus' brain 
Should he strike him so, that a single blow would 

lay him with the slain, 
Or stretch him with a gentler touch prostrate 

upon the ground: 
On pondering well, this latter course the wiser one 

he found. 

22 
For if his strength was fully shewn, he knew that 

all men's eyes 
The powerful hero would detect, despite his mean 

disguise. 
Irus the king's right shoulder hit; then he with 

smashing stroke 
Returned a blow beneath the ear, and every bone 

was broke. 

23 
Burst from his mouth the gushing blood ; down to 

the dust he dashed, 
With bellowing howl, and in the fall his teeth to 

pieces crashed. 
There lay he, kicking on the earth; meanwhile, 

the suitors proud, 
Lifting their hands as fit to die, shouted in laughter 

loud. 
H.B. 17 



258 ODYSSEY. XVIII. 100-113. 



avrdp 'Ocuaaeus 

f 'E\K€ 01 €K irpoQvpOLO, XafitoV 7TO$OS, 0(pp f itC€T 

avXrjv, 
Al9ovo~r]$ T€ Oupas' Kai \xiv ttotI epKtop avXrjs 
FJcrev dvaicXivas' GKYjirTpov oe o\ epxfiaXe X €L P L 
Kai juliv (pcovqaa? eirea irTepoevra 7rpoarjv^a' 
EvtcluOoi vvv rjao 9 avas re Kvvas t direpvKvov, 



M*;oe (TV ye ^elvwv Kai irrwySyv tcoipavos el vat, 

Avy p6$ 6WV' /JLT) 7T0V TL KaKOV Kai /UL€lfyv €7Tavpf]. 

H pa Kai aim<p cofioicriv aeiKea fiaXXexo irr\pr\v^ 
TlvKvd pcoyaXerjv' kv ce GTpo(po§ rjev aopTtjp, 
A\ls o oy 67T ovoop iwv Kar ap e{eTo 



roi o iaav eiaco 



Rciu yeXwovres Kai ceiKavowvT eireeG(Jiv m 
ZeJs tol Soirj, £e7i/e, Kai dOavaToi 6eol aXXoi, 
'Otti fiaXiaT eOeXeis Kai tol (piXov eirXero 

0VfXW, 



THE BEATEN BEGGAEMAN. 259 

24 
Odysseus seized him by the foot, and dragged him 

through the hall, 
To porch and gate, and left him laid against the 

boundary wall. 
He placed a wand within his hand, and said, ' The 

task is thine, 
There seated with this staff, to drive away the 

dogs and swine; 

25 
* But on the stranger and the poor never again 

presume 
To act as lord, else, villain base, thine may be 

heavier doom/ 
So saying, o'er his back he flung his cloak, to 

tatters rent, 
Then bound it with a twisted rope, and back to 

his seat he went, 

26 

Back to the threshold, while within uprose the 
laughter gay. 

And with kind words was hailed the man who con- 
quered in the fray. 

'May Zeus and all the other gods, O stranger! 
grant thee still 

Whate'er to thee most choice may be, whatever 
suits thy will. 

17-2 



260 ODYSSEY. XVIII. 114-117. 



e O9 tovtov tov clvoXtov a\t]T6U€iv aweTrauaas 
Rv CYifxtp* Ta^a yap ixiv dvd<£ofX€v rjireipovce 
Eis ' Ej£€Toi/ pacriXiJa, ppoTwv orjkYnxova wavTCdv. 

'Qs dp' €(pap* "ftalpev 06 KXerjoovi olos 'Ocuaaevs. 



THE BEATEN BEGGARMAN. 261 

27 
' Thy hand has checked the beggar bold, ne'er 

to return again 
To Ithaca, for straight shall he be sped across 

the main, 
Epirus-ward, to Echetus, terror of all mankind/ 
So spoke they, and the king received the omen 

glad of mind. 



NOTES. 



Note (l). p. 246. 

Tprjt Kapivoi laos ' ov av kclkcl \ir)Tivai\j,i)v. . 

I have taken both interpretations of this word. In 
one meaning the old woman is called a chimney- hunter, 
because she is chatty, talkative, 7ro\v\a\os; in another, 
because she is blackened with the ashes : did to €m<fiaiv6- 
[icvov ixeXav, cos olov ck twos do-ftoXrjs, I do not well under- 
stand the explanation given by Aristarchus and Herodian, 
quoted by Clarke from Eustathius. 

Note (2). p. 246. 

YvaSjicov et-eXao-aifjLL, avos coy Xrj'il3oT€Lpr}S* 

The scholiast informs us, that when swine are caught 
rooting the corn, their teeth are drawn for the offence. 
^Elian assures us that it is a special law in Salamis ; 
adding, that it was supposed, that if swine ate green corn 
it makes their teeth rotten. Clarke says that this expli- 
catio is ' satis inepta.' Perhaps so ; but I do not think the 
law which enacted the toothdrawing of swine very wise. 
It certainly would not much tend to improve the quality 
of the pork. 

Note (3). p. 250. 

*Av§pa yepovTa, dvrj aprjfxevov' akXd fie yao-Trjp, 

Eustathius doubts whether this yao-Trjp is that of Ulys- 
ses, or of the goat frying on the fire. The epithet naicoep- 



THE BEATEN BEGGARMAN. 263 

yos is supposed to settle the question in favour or disfavour 
of the former. We are referred to P. 286, yaarepa . . . ov- 
Xofievrjv, rj TToXka kcik av6pco7ros dldcocri. Seneca says, s Cum 
ventre humano tibi negotium est; nee rationem patitur, 
neo ulla prece flectitur populus esuriens/ The readers of 
Rabelais will remember the wonders of the court of 
Gaster, master of arts; and as he has taken the degree 
from Persius, I volunteer a translation of the introduction 
to the satires, in which that important functionary is 
dubbed Artium Magister ingenique largitor. 

Nee fonte labra prolui eaballino, 
Nee in bicipiti somniasse Parnasso 
Menrini, ut repente sic poeta prodirem. 
Heliconidasque pallidamque Pirenen 
Illis remitto, quorum imagines lambunt 
Hederae sequaces: ipse semipaganus 
Ad sacra vatum carmen affero nostrum. 
Quis expedivit psittaco suum Xcupe, 
Picasque docuit verba nostra conari? 
Magister artis ingenique largitor 
Venter, negatas artifex sequi voces. 
Quod si dolosi spes refulserit nummi, 
Corvos poetas et poetridas picas 
Cantare credas Pegaseium nectar. 

I never of the horse-hoof fountain 

Remember to have sipped the streams, 
Nor on Parnassus' two-topped mountain 

Slumbered to woo inspiring dreams, 
As to come forth at once a poet; 

But all the tribe of Helicon, 
Or pale Pirene, I bestow it 

To those who for their busts have won 
The well-earned wreath of ivy clinging: 

As for myself, but half a clown, 
My own rude verses I am bringing 

To join the sacred bards in town ; 



264 NOTES ON 

Who helps poor Poll to cry ( Good day, sir? \ 

Who to the jay our speech imparts ? 
The belly, of all wit the raiser; 

The belly, master first of arts. 
He 'tis who knows of tongues forbidden 

Plainly the ready way to teach; 
Shew us where shines a treasure hidden, 

As bright shall shine our parts of speech. 
The bard or bardess who more hoarse is 

Than croaking crows or chattering pies, 
Who will not then believe discourses 

Most Pegaseian melodies? 

Ulysses elsewhere speaks in angry terms of the belly, H. 
216, ov yap tl o-rvyepfj eVt yavrkpi Kvvrepov aXko, &C. *, a pas- 
sage which offends the delicacy of Athenseus, who is followed 
by Bishop Blomfield in his note on Callimachus , Hymn, 
els Arjfxrjrpos KakaSov, 1. 88. After the bishop has made a 
very unhappy attempt at an emendation, he proceeds to 
say, 6 Notum est proverbium 7ra^cia yaar^p \€7tt6v ov tlktci 
voov. Cseterum tota hsec descriptio [that of Erisichthon 
eating all before him] sordidissima est, et infra Hymni 
dignitatem longe posita. Callimachus, ut opinor, imitari 
voluit setatis Homericse simplicitatem. In Odyss. H. 215 
seqq. Ulysses similia de se prsedicat, quo nomine merito ab 
Athenseo reprehenditur, x. p. 412. C There is not the 
smallest similarity between the passages in Callimachus 
and Homer, as any one will see on inspection. Erisich- 
thon, who, as a 7ravdfiepos tlkairivcHTTas r)o~6i€ \ivpla rravra, 
is a very different person from Ulysses complaining of the 
necessity imposed on mankind of attending under all cir- 
cumstances to the call of hunger. Alcinous had just before 
suspected him to be a god. This Ulysses at once contra- 
dicts, and deplores that he is obliged to submit to the 
ordinary wants of human nature. 



THE BEATEN BEGGAKMAN. 265 

Note (4). p. 252. 

9 H raya 9 Ipo$ "A'ipos iirlo-irao-TOV kclkov e£et* 

* Irus will be un-Irused ;' he will no longer be able to 
act as our messenger — our male Iris. His occupation is 
gone. e O fJLrjKirL ecropeuos 9 Ipos dWa reBvrj^opepos. 

Note (5). p. 254. 

JJepyfra) <f rJ7reip6vde } fiakap iv pip. pekalprj, 

I have ventured to imitate the Greek form in 6 Epirus- 
ward/ There is abundance of authority for it. What 
this "UTreipos was seems not very clear ; in the catalogue in 
the Iliad it is part of the dominions of Ulysses. Here it 
is evidently the Norfolk Island of Ithaca, and Echetus the 
Colonel Arthur of his time. 

Note (6). p. 256. 

'He pip rjK iXdaeie rapvcro-eiep r eVi yairj^ 

Ulysses, it will be seen, decides upon giving Irus only 
a gentle tap. What Homer's idea of gentleness could have 
been it is hard to say ; for this light touch smashes the 
man's jaw-bone, knocks him down in a second, and leaves 
him vomiting red blood, howling, and kicking upon the 
ground, with his teeth dashed out, unable to rise. It may 
be remarked, that in the heroic boxing-matches, in Homer, 
Theocritus, Virgil, &c., the champions have no notion of 
self-defence. A single blow generally decides. Clarke is 
quite delighted with the elegance of this description. 
'Pulcherrime rem depingunt et quasi ob oculos possunt 
hsec verba/ The suitors who actually saw it felt, of 
course, infinitely delighted. They were ready to die of 



266 NOTES ON THE BEATEN BEGGARMAN. 

laughing, v. 99. None of the scruples of Pope found 
their way into the heroes of these times. He says, — 

Soon his life to save 
The king resolves, for mercy sways the brave. 

But it would be hard to find this any where in Homer. 
The king's mercy is no more than that he does not choose 
to kill Irus, for fear of his being discovered by the extra- 
ordinary display of skill and strength. In. 1. 94, 'A^atoi is 
interpreted as the suitors. So else, when, as P. 413, &c. 
I suppose the word is a corruption. Would dyavol, the 
ordinary title of the suitors, be tolerable in such a con- 
struction ? 



XII. 

THE FIRST APPEARANCE OF HELEN. 



ODYSSEY. Book IV. 121-234. 



AS I do not purpose continuing this series beyond the 
present ballad, I must not conclude without intro- 
ducing the lady herself, who was the cause of all the wo, — 
the highborn Helen, the far- famed beauty for whom fell 

The topless towers of Ilion, 
and who has since been the theme of many a song. In 
my opening paper, I noticed the theory of the Chorizontes 
(ol xa)/>i£oi>res), who maintained that the Iliad and the 
Odyssey were written by different persons, grounding their 
opinions on the varying accounts which, as they imagine, 
is given of the conduct of Helen in the two poems. In 
the Odyssey, A. 261, she confesses that she followed Paris 
of her own accord, induced by the goddess of love ; while 
in the Iliad, B. 356 and 590, she is described as having 
been carried off by violence, and detained in sorrow: 
which Nestor calls upon the Greeks to revenge, and which 
fills the breast of Menelaus with indignation. 



268 HOMERIC BALLADS. 

The line in these two passages of the Iliad is the same : 

Ticraa-dai r EX.€i/qs opfitjfiaToi tc orrovaxds T6. 

Unfortunately, however, op^pLara occurs nowhere else 
in Homer, or any other Greek writer; and it is very 
puzzling to decide upon its meaning. It is translated in 
the ordinary Latin version raptum, and must have been so 
interpreted by the Chorizontes. In the small Scholia, 
too, we find it explained by apTrayrjv. Eustathius gives it 
the sense of a voyage ; but then rivcto-Bai would necessarily 
express the punishment of Helen ; * which/ as Buttmann 
gallantly says, 'is not to be thought of for an instant/ 
His own opinion is, that it signifies any violent emotion of 
the mind; but when we recollect the peculiar sort of 
revenge recommended by Nestor, it is impossible not to 
suspect that the word refers to something more than 
mental*. 

Explain it, however, as we will, it does not countenance 
the theory of the Chorizontes. We need not have recourse 
to the metaphysical refinement of maintaining that the 
fascination of Paris acting on a weak woman was, and con- 
tinued to be, a kind of violence committed upon her ; all 
we have to do is to consider whence comes the complaint 



* My opinion, however, is, that in one of the passages the line is 
interpolated. Some ancient critics, with whom Heyne is inclined 
to agree, wished to expunge it from the speech of Nestor, II. B. 
356. I incline against the other passage. The three lines, B. 
588-90, are not in the spirit of the catalogue, or in accordance with 
the generally unobtrusive character of Menelaus. In the speech of 
Nestor the line in question has a peculiar fitness. 



FIRST APPEARANCE OF HELEN. 269 

about these op/iT/'/xara, whatever they may be. Nestor 
urging the Greeks to fight in what he wished them to con- 
sider the cause of Helen, would, of course, represent her 
as an injured, not a guilty, woman; and Menelaus, her 
husband, anxious to get her back again, would nataally 
desire to believe that she left him with reluctance, and 
continually sighed to return. In the Iliad, T. 173, &c, 
she says that she willingly accompanied Paris, as plainly 
as she says it in the Odyssey, In her own speeches she 
appears as the victim of love : it suits her Greek friends 
to represent her as the victim of violence. There surely 
is nothing unnatural, but directly the reverse, in these 
different views of her case. 

We find, however, not indeed a difference, but a most 
delicate discrimination, between the Helen of the Iliad 
and the Odyssey. In the former she is plunged in per- 
petual sorrow, mourning over her only daughter, her 
amiable friends, her famous brothers, whom she had 
deserted, and cursing herself, as the occasion of all the 
sorrow and misfortunes by which she is surrounded, from 
her first appearance to her last. In the Odyssey, we see 
her proud of port, magnificent in appearance, every inch 
a queen. Circumstances only are different — the woman 
is the same, — the one Helen of the one Homer. Her 
burst of grief on seeing, from the towers of Troy, her old 
friends now alienated from her, and of still more poignant 
lamentation, on not seeing among them her renowned 
brothers, the first of men on the turf and in the ring, 






270 HOMERIC BALLADS. 

steed-taming Castor and stout-handed Pollux, is only 
natural. How soon is that sorrow checked, and the deep 
remorse she expresses for her lapse and its consequences 
forgotten, the moment that coming in ready obedience at 
his call she sees the man for whom she had abandoned 
every thing she had so lately lamented ! how soon is her 
petulant speech of taunting reproach silenced, and how 
easily does she yield again at the first warm words of 
flattery and love ! Is not this also natural ? 

When Paris is slain, she is transferred, according to 
the custom of those ages, to Deiphobus. The only pas- 
sage in which she is introduced in company with her new 
husband occurs shortly after the lines which I am about to 
translate {Od. A. 271 — 289) ; and it represents him suspi- 
cious, as he well might be, of her movements, and urging 
her to deeds of treachery, in which he finds her no reluct- 
ant associate. But by this time the guilty love had de- 
parted, and she desires no longer to remain in Troy. The 
post-Homeric-writers — who, however, knew no more about 
the matter than ourselves — assign to her the part of 
betraying Deiphobus to death, in order to make her peace 
with Menelaus. It merely marks their opinion of the 
general treachery of her character ; for we find nothing of 
it in Homer, who describes the house of Deiphobus as 
having been taken, after a desperate battle — alvorarov 
nokefiov — by Ulysses and Menelaus. Od. 9. 517 — 520. 

Herbert, in conformity with the theory of his Nimrod, 
applies to her the character of ' the accursed woman' shut 



FIRST APPEARANCE OF HELEN. 271 

up in the tower. I interpret Homer all through literally. 
Helen has no enchantment about her but the charms 
which Nature gave*. She is the beauty of Greece — the 



* Anacreon, Od. 2.] I venture upon some paraphrastic mimicry 
of this untranslatable ode, placing it, with due appreciation of rank, 
in a note. I versify it in the favourite metre of Burns. If Tie had 
known a little Greek (a very little would have been necessary), and 
thought translation of Anacreon worthy of his genius, we might 
have had something Teian in our language, or, at least, in its 
Scotch dialect. As it is : — 

Averts Kipara ravpois, 
oVAas 5° eSuxev ittttois, 
iroSuiKLrjv A.aycoots, 
\4ov(tl X ^^' o86vt<ov, 

TO IS IxQvCTLV TO VTjKTOV, 

tois bpveois ireTao-Oai, 
Tot? dvSpdcnv <f>p6vr}fx.a 
■ywai£!v ovk e-rrelx^ 
re o$v 818i0<tl; KaAAo?. 

olvt dcnrCSoiv dmxcriijiv, 
dvr ky\ioiv djrdvT(ov' 
vucq Se /cat crCSrjpov, 
Kal Trvp, Kdkri tls ovcra. 

I. 

Horns to the bull has heaven decreed; 
With hoof of vigour armed the steed; 
Gifted the hare with foot of speed; 

So toothed the jaw 
Of yawning lion, as to breed 

Terror and awe. 

II. 

To fish is given to stem the tide; 

To birds, on wing through air to glide ; 

To men, with forethought to provide 

For every duty. 
Was aught for woman left beside? 

O, yes ! 'twas beauty ! 



272 HOMERIC BALLADS. 

wooed of fifty princes, the flower of Hellas, plighted by 
solemn vows to defend her from insult of wrong, though 
her choice could light only on one among them. This is 
sufficient to excuse all her frailties, to cast all her errors 
into oblivion. Pope, in his own peculiar lino of poetry 
unsurpassable, has told the story in the often- quoted line 
of the Rape of the Lock. Helen, like Belinda, had the 
failings of her sex ; but men had only to 

Look in her face, and you forget them all. 
True it is, that the failings of Belinda were not of so 
grave a kind as those of the Argive beauty,— toeing no- 
thing worse than flirting, ogling, ' and all that f but, on 
the other hand, her beauty was not of the celestial lustre 
of the 87a ywaiKwv, before which, from early youth to 
mature womanhood, all who beheld her, were they old 
and young, favoured and injured, were prostrate in admi- 
ration. In Helen's case, any excuse will suffice. Fate — 
Venus — the will of the gods — any thing — is made to 
palliate the conduct, however deserving of the severest 
censure, of the woman whose countenance, even in the 
eyes of Trojan elders, is like to the immortal goddesses ; 
and for whom the very fathers of the city, exposed to ruin 



III. 

Beauty ! compared with thee, the shield 
Guards less the heart in battle-field; 
Less sharp the spears that warriors wield, 

Darted on foeman ! 
Hard steel, fierce flame, themselves must yield, - 

To charm of woman. 



FIRST APPEARANCE OF HELEN. 273 

and slaughter on her account, admit, as they gaze upon 
her, that it is no wonder that nations should engage in all 
the woes of war. She was, beside, of the blood of the 
gods — of the highest blood, too ; and ladies of heavenly- 
birth claimed privileges not conceded to ordinary mortals, 
and had their claims allowed. In this war, the complaint 
of her Greek partisans was not that she had granted 
favours to Paris, but that she, the Jove-born, had been 
subjected to violence and rape. Had she remained quietly 
at home, her lapse would have been attributed to some 
immediate avatar of the gods ; and Menelaus would have 
borne it with as much tranquillity as Amphitryon. 

The Helen of the Iliad and the Odyssey is in the main 
features of character essentially one. She is selfish, sen- 
sual, and splendid. In the Iliad, the uncertainty of her 
lot, and the surrounding slaughter, draw from her bitter 
complaints and unavailing wishes that she had never been 
born, or had perished in the waves before she came to 
Troy ; but her griefs are selfish. We find her first coolly 
employed in weaving tapestry to picture forth the battles 
of the armies 'suffering woes' on her account: and when 
i she learns that Paris and Menelaus are to fight in single 
combat to decide to whom she was to belong as wife, she 
feels, certainly, a slight emotion of soft remembrance of 
other days ; but it does not make her forget the necessity 
of wrapping herself up in silvery sheen, and descending, 
with her handmaidens, in due state, to witness, as a 
scarcely concerned spectator, the scenes going on in the 
H.B. 18 



274 HOMERIC BALLADS. 

plains. She is perfectly reconciled to the result of the 
conflict, whatever it may be. She thinks tenderly of her 
former husband — i. e. she is ready to return to him if he 
wins her, and to abandon her Trojan lover. She is found 
equally ready to fall into the arms of Paris when he comes 
back from the field. When she reproaches him for his 
defeat, her anger is embittered by the reflection of the 
disgrace it occasions to herself. (II. Z. 349, &c.) As she 
had deserted her husband, she wishes that the man for 
whom the gods destined her had been one more worthy of 
respect, and more sensible of honourable impulses. So, 
when she mourns over the slain body of Hector, her 
sorrow flows principally from her conviction, that by his 
death she has lost a powerful friend, at a moment when 
she most wants a protector. (II. J2. 773, &c.) Her con- 
duct to Paris is that of a finished coquette. She chides 
and upbraids him, but the next instant shares with him 
the pleasures of sensual love. Not only is she prepared, 
if the decision of the fight decrees it, to leave him for 
Menelaus ; but she hints plainly enough (22. r. 400), that 
if it were the will of Venus that she should go with any 
other favourite of the goddess in Phrygia or Mseonia, she 
might murmur at the arrangement, but would not think of 
disobeying. 

In the Odyssey, we find her displaying the same exter- 
nal splendour, and the same indifference to the sufferings 
of others, provided her own feelings are gratified. We 
learn from herself, that she connived at the slaughter of 



FIRST APPEARANCE OF HELEN 275 

the Trojans by the hands of Ulysses, whom she welcomed 
and harboured when he entered the town as a spy ; and 
from her husband, that she was equally ready to betray 
Ulysses himself, and his companions in the horse, to 
slaughter, as merciless at the hands of Deiphobus, by 
luring them to their fate by a treacherous imitation of 
the voices of their wives. She rejoiced, she tells us, in 
her heart, when she heard the shrill wailing of the Trojan 
women ; because she now — now that Paris was no more — 
was anxious to return home ; and not a word of compas- 
sion or remorse, except in general and unmeaning phrases, 
drops from her concerning all the misery she occasioned. 
Paris is never mentioned (perhaps on the principle of 
Haynes Bayly's song, fi Oh, no, we never mention her!'). 
The misfortunes of the war are freely treated, as if she 
were indifferent to all concerned ; and if she sheds, in 
company with others, an idle tear over Ulysses, whose 
craft and deceit had chiefly attracted her admiration 
(Od. A. 257), she speedily banishes reflections that might 
disturb her, by the sweet oblivious antidote of nepenthe. 
Her selfish sorrows, in the Iliad, are replaced by a dispo- 
sition for ease equally selfish. She is forgiven by her 
husband, — the time of deep emotion has passed away, — 
the bloody dream of war is over, — the sweet intoxication 
of sensual passion gone. She sits as queen in the halls 
of her native land ; and though she sometimes uses words 
of regret or shame, it is plain that her heart is at rest, 
from feeling, that all is done — that whatever memories 

18-2 



276 HOMERIC BALLADS. 

she may retain for those who once stirred every passion, 
they shall not be permitted to disturb her present repose 
—that she is never again to witness scenes of reproach, 
danger, or dismay — and that where she now is none dare 
censure her, but, on the contrary, that all admitted to her 
presence approach her in profound snbmission to her rank 
and fame, or in unfeigned admiration of her peerless 
beauty and her excelling attractions. 

She is perpetually applying to herself terms of con- 
demnation ; but from Homer, in his own person, we never 
hear a word of blame directed against her. It was no 
part of his task to compose sermons, or ethical treatises ; 
but he gives his opinions in a way just as intelligible as if 
he had moralised through a whole volume. Helen, in 
the Iliad, is shewn in contrast with Andromache ; in the 
Odyssey, with Penelope ; and many and minute are the 
touches of distinction between the characters of the re- 
spective ladies — between the devoted wife, praying her 
husband not to rush into danger, no matter how honour- 
able might be the occasion, and the sensual mistress, 
driving her lover to the combat that he might not dis- 
grace her choice — between the afflicted woman, begging, 
in tones of pathetic eloquence, that her Hector should not 
abide the issue of a single combat, pressed upon him by 
every consideration of public honour and private feeling, 
and the haughty dame, whining, indeed, with a mixture of 
coquetry and selfish remorse, but coolly awaiting the result 
of a duel, in which her husband, to whose honourable 



FIRST APPEARANCE OF HELEN. 277 

qualities she herself bears testimony, both in Iliad and 
Odyssey, and the man for whom she professed a fatal 
affection, peril their lives solely on her account, indifferent 
to the fate of the combat, and prepared to welcome the 
embraces of either — and, again, between the cautious and 
prudent lady, waiting, in widowhood and seclusion, long 
years, in the hope of her husband's return, subjecting her- 
self to insult and annoyance, while she reared their son to 
manhood, though scarcely dreaming that her hopes would 
be fulfilled at last, and the intrigante, reckless of every 
thing but immediate gratification, abandoning home, and 
honour, and daughter, without scruple, living a life of 
luxury and splendour, professing love, but feeling none of 
its noble or soul-stirring emotions, at once braving the 
world and wooing its flatteries — between Penelope, chaste, 
upright, free from self-reproach, and careless of the female 
point of honour, and Helen, proud of bearing, but tor- 
mented by her own thoughts whenever she ventures to 
think, sincere, perhaps, for the moment, in the utterance 
of remorseful emotions, but confirmed by long practice in 
hypocrisy and deceit. Faithless and fair, an object of 
admiration more than of love, of pity rather than of con- 
demnation for her errors, trusted by none, and compli- 
mented by all, the very splendour with which she is 
introduced, both in the Iliad and Odyssey, affords a 
striking contrast to the affectionate meeting of Andro- 
mache and Hector, and the modest demeanour of Pene- 
lope, called from her chamber to check a song reminding 



278 HOMERIC BALLADS. 

her too sadly of her absent husband. These are the 
scenes in which these ladies are originally introduced in 
IUad and Odyssey* 

Her striking grandeur of appearance is one of the 
marks which incline me to believe that Homer intended 
to represent Helen as the character [not exactly of the 
accursed, but] of the false woman. It is a characteristic 
of the Cleopatras, the Olympias, the Clevelands, and other 
such ladies of all times and countries. It can be hardly 
worth while to write a dissertation on such a subject here ; 
but it would not be hard to prove that gorgeousness of 
personal appearance is at once a cause and a consequence 
of that disposition which led Helen to err. 

But she must not be waited for any longer. Adraste, 
and Alcippe, and Phylo, and Asphalion, are waiting in full 
pomp to introduce 

THE FIRST APPEARANCE OF HELEN. 

[Telemachus, and Pisistratus, son of Nestor, arrive at 
Sparta in quest of information after Ulysses ; and they 
are there hospitably received by Melelaus and Helen. 
They arrive on prosperous occasion, which may be 
1 taken in the very words of Pope :' — 

And now proud Sparta with their wheels resounds — 
Sparta, whose walls a range of hills surrounds. 
At the fair dome the rapid labour ends, 
Where sat Atrides, 'midst his bridal friends, 
"With double vows invoking Hymen's power, 
To bless his son's and daughter's nuptial hour. 



FIRST APPEARANCE OF HELEN. 279 

Hermione, the daughter of Helen and Menelaus, was 

wedded to the son of Achilles; and Megapenthes, 

whom it pleases Pope to call the offspring of a stolen 

amour [ik bovXrjs] of great Atrides' age, to the daughter 

of Alector, by the same authority styled his handmaid. 

The visitors are astonished at the magnificence which 

they behold. Those who read the Greek Homer, not 

the English, from whom he was, according to the 

epigram, translated, will be as much astonished at 

many things in the following, — among the rest, at the 

title of ( seneschal* applied to the Kpelcov 'Ereavevs. 

The seneschal, rebuk'd, in haste withdrew; 
"With equal haste a menial train pursue : 
Part led the coursers, from the car enlarg'd. 
Each to a crib with choichest grain surcharg'd: 
Part in a portico, profusely grac'd. 
"With rich magnificence the chariot plac'd : 
Then to the dome the friendly pair invite, 
Who eye the dazzling roofs with vast delight; 
Resplendent as the blaze of summer noon, 
Or the pale radiance of the midnight moon. 
From room to room their eager view they bend : 
Thence to the bath, a beauteous pile, descend; 
Where a bright damsel train attends the guests 
With liquid odours, and embroider'd vests. 
Refreshed, they wait them to the bower of state, 
Where circled with his peers Atrides sate : 
Throned next the king, a fair attendant brings 
The purest product of the crystal springs; 
High on a massy vase of silver mould, 
The burnished laver flames with solid gold; 
In solid gold the purple vintage flows, 
And on the board a second banquet rose. 
W^hen thus the king with hospitable port: — 
Accept this welcome to the Spartan court ; 



280 HOMERIC BALLADS. 

The waste of nature let the feast repair, 

Then your high lineage and your names declare; 

Say from what sceptred ancestry ye claim, 

Recorded eminent in deathless fame? 

For vulgar parents cannot stamp their race 

"With signatures of such majestic grace. 

Ceasing, benevolent he straight assigns 
The royal portion of the choicest chines 
To each accepted friend: with grateful haste 
They share the honours of the rich repast. 
Sufficed, soft whispering thus to Nestor's son, 
His head reclined, young Ithacus begun: 

View'st thou unmoved, O ever-honoured most! 
These prodigies of art, and wondrous cost ! 
Above, beneath, around, the palace shines 
The sumless treasure of exhausted mines : 
The spoils of elephants the roofs inlay, 
And studded amber darts a golden ray: 
Such, and not nobler, in the realms above 
My wonder dictates is the dome of Jove. 

It is, however, one of the best executed passages in Pope ; 
for the splendour of the house of Menelaus is sedu- 
lously pressed upon our attention, and the stately 
versification of Pope does it justice. I have chosen 
for the following ballad a metre which, if properly 
managed, is capable of majestic utterance. It is the 
trochaic tetrameter catalectic of the ancients, if such 
designations be applicable to our style of verse. In 
our own ballads (I quote from memory, and will not 

guarantee my readings), that of 

Do' you | kno'w a | Tur'kish | lady ||, 

How' she | lov'ed an | English | ma'n. 
Gold and | je'wels | ri'ch as | ma'y be ||, 
Ro'yal 1 clo'thing | ha'd she | o'n. 



FIRST APPEARANCE OF HELEN. 281 

In the classical Pervilegium Veneris: 

Cras a' | me't qui | nun'qu' a- | ma'vit || 

Qui qu' a- | ma'vit | era's a- | met. 
Ve'r no- | vu'm ver | ja'm ca- | no'rum || 

Ve're- | na'tus | o'rbis | est. 

Or in the hymns of that musical dialect which forms the 
link between the classical and the romantic metres, 
as: 

Ta'ntum | e'rgo | sa'cra- | me'ntum || 

Ve'ne- | re'mur | ce'rnu- | i 
E't an- | ti'quum | do'cu- | me'ntum || 
Ce'dat no'vo | ri'tu- | i, &c. 



Or: 



Ma'cte | ju'dex | mo'rtu- | o'rum || 
Ma'cte | re'x vi- | ve'nti- | um. 

So'lve | vo'cem | me'ns so- | n'oram 
Solve | li'nguam | mo'bi- | lem. 



282 ODYSSEY. IV. 121-131. 



Ij K d EXevrj OaXdfxoio Oucoceos v\j/opo(poio 
EXvOev, 'Apre/uuci xpuariXaKCiTU) eiKvIa* 
Tj7 o ap afx Aoprjorrrj kXigli^v cutvktov eOrjfcev' 
'PiXKiirirri oe TcnrriTa (pepev fxaXaKov epioio' 



<l>vX(v 6 dpyvpeov raXapov (pepe, tov ol ecwtcev 
AXKavcpt], UoXvfioio cd/map, o? evai evl Qrj/3r}$ 
AlyvTTTLf]s 9 60 l TrXeiGTa cofxois ev ktyi tiara KGLTaC 



Os IS/ieveXaw owns ov apyvpeas a<ra[xiv9ovs, 
Aoiovs Se Tp'nrocas, ceKa oe xpvcroio TaXavra. 
Xwpls o av6* 'EXevrj aXo^o? Trope KaXXifxa owpa' 
Upvaeriv t yXaKarrjv TaXapov 6 v7tokvkXov 



OTraaeev 



FIRST APPEARANCE OF HELEN. 283 



FROM her perfumed chamber wending, 
Did the high-born Helen go: 
Artemis she seemed descending, 

Lady of the golden bow; 
Then Adrasta, bent on duty, 

Placed for her the regal chair; 
Carpet for the feet of beauty 
Spread Alcippe soft and fair. 

2 
Phylo came the basket holding, 

Present of Alcandra's hand; 
Fashioned was its silvery moulding 

In old Egypt's wealthy land; 
She, in famous Thebe living, 

Was of Polybus the spouse, 
He with soul of generous giving 

Shared the wealth that stored his house. 

S 
Ten gold talents from his coffer, 

Lavers twain of silver wrought, 
With two tripods as his offer, 

Had he to Atrides brought; 
While his lady came bestowing 

Gifts to Helen rich of price, 
Gave a distaff, golden, glowing, 

Gave this work of rare device. 



284 ODYSSEY. IV. 132-146. 



Apyvpeov, y^pvaip o ewl y^eiXea KCKpaavro. 
Tov pa 01 afiJL<p'nro\i$ QuXco 7rape9r)K€ (pepovaa, 
N^aro? a&tcrjToio fiefivG/iAevov' avrap eV avrw 

HWaKCLTY] T€TaVV(TT0 9 lOOV€<peS €lpOS h^OVCTO. 



1 E^ero 6 ev kXictiul^, utto ce Oprjvvs irocrlv rjev. 

AvriKa o r\y €7T€eacri ttogiv epeeivev eKaara' 
Ic/uev o*} ? Me^eXae AiorpeCpes, oirives dice 
Avopwv ev^eTowvTai iKave/mev rjfxeTepov did ; 

^evcrofxai, y\ ervfixov epeco ; KeXeTai oe fie Oujllos. 

Ov yap 7T0) Tiva <fyr\\xi eoiKora woe ioeaOai, 

Out avop oi/re yvvaiKa — cejSas 1 m e^ei elcropo- 
wcjav — - 



e Qs oh" 'OSvcrcrrjos /meyaXrJTopos vu eoutev, 
TrfKejULa^q), top eXenre veov yeyawr evi oikw 
Ke7vos avrjp, ot ejuelo kwoottloo^ eiveK A^aioi 
"HXOeff v7ro Tpolrjv, TroXe/mov Opaavv oppaivovres. 



FIRST APPEARANCE OF HELEN. 285 

4 
Shaped was it in fashion rounded, 

All of silver but the brim, 
Where by skilful hand 'twas bounded, 

With a golden-guarded rim. 
Now to Helen Phylo bore it, 

Of its well-spun labour full, 
And the distaff laid she o'er it, 

Wrapt in violet-tinted wool. 

5 
Throned, then, and thus attended, 

Helena the king addressed: 
6 Menelaus, Jove-descended, 

Know'st thou who is here thy guest? 
Shall I tell thee, as I ponder, 

What I think, or false or true; 
Gazing now with eyes of wonder 

On the stranger whom I view? 

6 
' Shape of male or female creature, 

Like to bold Odysseus' son; 
Young Telemachus in feature, 

As this youth I seen have none. 
From the boy his sire departed, 

And to Ilion's coast he came, 
When to valiant war ye started 

All for me — a thing of shame.' 



286 ODYSSEY. IV. 147-163. 

Tqv o airaiieifiofxevos irpo^ecprj %av96$ Mei/eActo?' 
Ovtco vvv Kai eyco voew, yvvai, m av e/oveeis* 
Keivov yap Toioioe 7ro$69 roiaiSe tc X € ^P € $» 
0(f>9a\fiaiv T€ fioXal K€(j)a\i] T €<pV7rep9e re 

%aiTcu* 
Kai vvv y\toi eyco /txefiivrjiuLevos dju(j> 'OSuarj'i 
WLvOeofirjv oaa Kelvos oi'^Jcra? ifiioyrjaev 
'A/mcf) €ixol 9 avrap 6 Trucpov vir dtppvcri Sdicpvov 

e*/3ei/, 

X\a7i/ai> Tropcpvperjv avr o(j)9a\fio?iv avao")(wv. 
Tov o av NeaTopicrjs lie to icrr par o$ dvrlov rjvoa' 
'ATpeiorj Mei/eXae AioTpeCpes, op^a/me \awv 9 
Keivov fxevroi bo v\o$ eTriTVfxov, cos dyopeveis. 
'AWd oraocfrpcov earl, 



ve/ueaadrai $' evl Ovjuup, 
T Q$' eXOwv to irpwTov, €7r€GJ3o\la$ dva(J)aiv€iv 
*AvTa aedevy tov vm 9eov cog Tepirofxed avorj. 
AvTap ejue 7rpo€rjKe Teprjvios \inroTa Nearcop, 
T<p a/ma 7rojUL7rov €7T€g9cu' eeXSeTO yap &€ io€a9ai, 
>f O(f)pa o\ rj tl 67T09 V7ro9rjcr€ai 9 rje ti epyov. 



FIRST APPEARANCE OF HELEN. 287 

7 
And Atrides spake, replying, 

' Lady, so I think as thou, 
Such the glance from eyeball flying, 

Such his hands, his feet, his brow; 
Such the locks his forehead gracing; 

And I marked how, as I told 
Of Odysseus' deeds retracing, 

Down his cheek the tear-drop rolled. 

8 
'While he wiped the current straying 

With his robe of purple hue/ 
Nestor's son then answered, saying,- — 

1 What thou speakest, king, is true. 
He who at thy board is sitting 

Is of wise Odysseus sprung; 
Modest thoughts, his age befitting, 

Hitherto have stilled his tongue. 

9 
' To address thee could he venture, 

While thy winning accents flowed, 
In our ravished ears to enter, 

As if uttered by a god! 
At Gerenian Nestor's sending 

Comes beneath my guidance he, 
In the hope thy well intending 

To his guest of help may be. 



288 ODYSSEY. IV. 164-167. 



TloXXa yap aX^ye e^e* iraxpos ?rai$ ol^o/ixevoio 
Ev fieyapois, (i /mrj ctWoi aoacrrjTfjpes eooaw, 
'Q9 vvv TriXejULCL^w' o fxev enteral, ouce o\ aXXoc 
Eio*\ 01 Kev Kara crj/mov aXaXicoiev KaKOTtjra. 



[I have condensed into two stanzas the substance of 
the lines from v. 168 to v. 218, as I fear they would seem 
tedious in this metre. I resume at 219.] 



FIRST APPEARANCE OF HELEN. 289 

10 
Many a son feels sorrow try him 

While his sire is far away, 
And no faithful comrade by him, 

In his danger prop or stay. 
So, my friend, now vainly sighing, 

O'er his father absent long, 
Finds no hand, on which relying, 

He may meet attempted wrong/ 

11 
[Kindly Menelaus spake him, 

Praised his sire in grateful strain, 
Told his whilome hope to take him 

As a partner in his reign; 
All were softened at his telling 

Of the days now past and gone; 
Wept Telemachus, wept Helen, 

Fell the tears from Nestor's son. 

12 
Gushing came they for his brother, 

Slain by Dawn-born Memnon's sword ; 
But his grief he strove to smother,, 

As unfit for festal board. 
Ceased the tears for wo and slaughter, 

And again began the feast; 
Round Asphalion bore the water, 

Tendered to each noble guest.] 

h. b. 19 



290 ODYSSEY. IV. 219-230. 



EvO clvt aXX evorjcr EXevrj, Aio$ eicyeyavta' 
Avtlk ixp ei$ olvov /3a\e (papnaKov, evOev ewivov, 
lSrj7T€v9€$( l ) t ayoXov re, kclkwv €7t'lXj]6ov ct7rai>- 

T(t)V. 

'O? to KaTaj3p6%€iev, £tty\v Kprjrrjpi fiiyeiri, 
Ob K€v €<prj[jL€pLo$ ye (iaXoi Kara odicpv Trapeiwv, 



Ovd ei o\ KaraTeOvalrj \x.r\Tr\p T€ 7raTrjp T6, 
Ovo ei o\ 7rpo7rapoi9ev dceXcfreov rj (piXou vlov 
XoXkco orfio(*)€v 9 o o o(p9aXixoicriv opcpro. 
Tola A(o? Ovyarrfp e^e (papfiaKa (jLrjTioevra, 
EaOXa, tol olYloXvoa/uiva iropev, Qwvos TrapaKOLTis, 
AlyvirTirj' rrj TrXeiara (pepei Xeicwpos dpovpa 
QapiuiaKa, 7roXXa fxev eaOXd ,a€jixiyjUL€va 9 woXXd 
c€ Xvypd. 



FIRST APPEARANCE OF HELEN. 291 

13 
Then to banish gloomy thinking, 

Helen on gay fancy bent, 
In the wine her friends were drinking, 

Flung a famed medicament: 
Grief-dispelling, wrath-restraining, 

Sweet oblivion of all wo; 
He the bowl thus tempered draining 

Ne'er might feel a tear to flow. 

14 
No, not e'en if she who bore him 

And his sire in death were laid ; 
Were his brother slain before him, 

Or his son with gory blade. 
In such drugs was Helen knowing; 

Egypt had supplied her skill, 
Where these potent herbs are growing, 

Some for good, and some for ill. 



19-2 



NOTES. 



Note (l). p. 290. 

TSlrjnevdes T (ixo\6v re, kclkcov €7ri\r)0ou anavTOdv. 

What the nepenthe may be has puzzled critics and 
physicians. It is generally supposed to be opium ; others 
think it the sedative extract of hyoscyamus, monkshood, 
or some such narcotic plant. Shall I hazard a conjecture, 
yj/evao/jLaL rj ervpou ipeco ? The mixture which Helen gives 
her guests is intoxicating. The derivation from vrj and 
net/Bos, though plausible enough, as combined here with 
aXoXov, is apparently an afterthought. It is, in all pro- 
bability, an Oriental word adopted into Greek, and, by the 
Greeks, as in many other such cases, assumed as their own, 
and supplied, as a matter of course, with a Greek etymo- 
logy. I need not go further for an example than 'Irjo-ovs 
(Joshua) derived from laopcu. As for the vrj, that may be 
easily disposed of — either in the sense of value, or veos — 
and then nevdes remains. Striking off the grammatical 
termination, we come to the root irtvO. This is the same 
word, with an aspiration, as irevr, the root of 7revT€ 9 Jive. 
Now, 7revr comes directly from Sanscrit ; and the Sanscrit 
has supplied us with another word, which originally, in 
India, five, is now the name of what jovial drainers of the 
bowl, who know nothing of its etymology, are in the habit 
of describing as our national liquor, viz. punch. A refer- 
ence to no more recondite authority than Johnson's Dic- 
tionary will shew the Indian origin of this word, expressive 



NOTES, &c. 293 

of the liquor of five ingredients. If my conjecture be 
allowed, the author, whoever he may have been, of ' Punch 
cures the gout, the cholic, and the tisick/ was unconsci- 
ously imitating one of the most famous passages of Homer, 
Od. A. 220, &c. I may here remark, that a familiarity 
with the use of drugs, as elsewhere of divination, ascribed 
to Helen by Homer, is another characteristic of ladies of 
her disposition. 



NOTE UPON 



<prj. 



In a hasty note on my 9th ballad, I threw out a sug- 
gestion that, in the 478th verse of the 15th Odyssey, cos 
might perhaps be read cprj . 

aWXw d' evSouirriare Trearovara 0fj eivaXiri k^£* 

instead of Trevovcf cos. The verse so read appears to me 
more harmonious, though the received text must be con- 
sidered as well qualified to express the plump souse of the 
woman or the bird into the water. Buttmann, of whom 
I have more to say before I conclude this note, remarks, 
under the head <fir) (in Fishlake's translation, p. 534), that, 
* throughout the whole of Homer, the simple cos, when 
placed before the noun in the sense of as, never stands 
otherwise than at the beginning of a sentence with a verb 
or a participle expressed, except in such cases evidently 
elliptic, as Od. &. 441, alt? ovtcos, Evfiaie, (frikos Ait irarpi 
yevoio, 'Qs e[xo\. In strict comparisons, on the other hand* 
[I must remark that Fishlake ought to have known that in 
English, at least, cos may be always translated as, just as 
in the other construction], 'where before the nominative 
or accusative it answers to the Latin instar with the geni- 
tive, we never find cos in any part of Homer as in that 
single (?) passage, cos Kvfxara jiaKpa Oakdcrcrrjs. Every where 
else we have either the simple cos after the noun, as Ocos 
£s, Xvkol cos, dpvoxovs cos; or, where placed before the noun, 
we have cocrre, as coo-re Kprjvt] fieXdwdpos, cocrre \eovre bvco, 
cocrre yvvauzas; Or rjvre, as rjvre Kovprj, rjvre vefipovs, &C.' 
This rule could be better and more briefly laid down, by 



NOTE UPON tf. 295 

saying that 'when cos is equivalent to ceu in Latin, it is 
placed after the noun, as Xvkol go?, translated by Virgil lupi 
ceu y [Virgil who, I suppose, knew the relative force of the 
Greek and Latin languages, did not think of employing 
luporum instar as the proper equivalent] ' in other cases it 
precedes/ Now, the line above quoted by Buttmann, cos 
Kvfiara fiaKpd Sakaa-crrjs [read by Zenodotus, (fir) Kvfxara] is 
not the only example in which his canon is violated, as he 
carelessly supposes, for in the Odyssey we have cos ebaXlrj 
kij£. I suppose, if the rule be correct, cos is as much out 
of place before a noun adjective as a noun substantive, and 
therefore, with Zenodotus in the Iliad, would replace it 
by <prj. (I own I do not like the unusual collocation of 
the adjective, and would have no objection to find a vari- 
ous reading for elvaXir).) If it be deemed an act of ultra 
temerity to introduce the strange word cpr), without hint or 
authority from ancient critics, scholiasts, or commentators, 
coo-t elvaXlr] should be substituted, as II. B. 459, coctt 6pvL- 
6cov, 474, coctt aiVoXta, and a hundred other places. 

But I am asked, What is cpr) ? and I referred to Butt- 
mann. $j), then, is twice read in the sense of cos by Zeno- 
dotus, me judice a superior critic to Aristarchus — once in 
the passage above quoted. II. B. 144, Kcvrjdrj If ayoprj, cos 
KvnaTa jjLaicpa 6aXdcrcrTjs 9 where, except for the grammatical 
canon just mentioned, it could make no alteration, and, of 
course, is of no importance. In the other passage, S. 499, 
<prj for cos is a decided improvement. Peneleus strikes off 
the head of Ilioneus, in whose eye was still sticking the 
spear by which he had been slain, and then 

— 6 <5e (firj, Kobdeiav dvaa-yujv^ 
irecfrpaSe Te Tpcoeaari, kcu evyofxevo's eVos rjiida. 

If <fir), according to received usage, be considered as icprj, 
we must suppose that Kcodeiav is put for cos Kcodeiav, an 



296 HOMERIC BALLADS. 

ellipsis never occurring in Homer, or, I suppose, in any 
body else; or translate Kcodtia as if it were literally a 
human head, not the head of a poppy, according to the 
usa^e of some later poets, inclined thereto, in all proba- 
bility, by their puzzled interpretation of this very line, 
and who are no authorities for Homeric language ; but, by 
so interpreting it, we lose all the beauty and fitness of the 
simile. We must also believe that Homer used such lan- 
guage as this : ' And he lifting [it as if it were] the head of 
a poppy, said and spoke to the Trojans, and uttered these 
words.' Aristarchus felt the force of the objection derived 
from a tautology, which in any author would be offensive, 
but in Homer impossible ; and, according to his usual cus- 
tom in difficulty, struck it out. This mended the passage 
somewhat ; but the other objection remains. Read, with 
Zenodotus, 6Se, <£?) Kcodeiav avao-x^v — all difficulty vanishes, 
and the striking simile is preserved. * And he lifting it, as 
a poppy-head, addressed the Trojans, and uttered these 
boasting words/ 

Much of the above is condensed from Buttmann. I 
quote what follows in extenso from his translator, Fishlake, 
pp. 532-534. 

6 1. That Zenodotus, in order to help himself out of a 
difficult passage, invented a word totally unknown, I should 
hope will no longer be believed ; there remafhs, therefore, 
only the opinion that he inconsiderately introduced into 
Homer the usage of some later epic, as Antimachus or 
Callimachus, to whom the old poet was a stranger. But 
the only scholium on the second passage says of Antima- 
chus, in plain language, that he may possibly have misun- 
derstood the language of Homer, and so have brought 
forward and introduced the (fry into his own poems, — an 
inconceivable suspicion this against a poet of Plato's time ! 






NOTE UPON <^. 297 

Surely, Homer's language was not then so obsolete, that at 
a period when the Greek language was in its zenith of life 
and vigour a poet could, from misunderstanding one single 
passage, have borrowed from him an unheard-of word, and 
immediately have taken it into use. $?;, therefore, was, in 
the time of Antimachus, a word of rare occurrence, it is 
true, but an undoubted one, and acknowledged to come 
from the old epic; and Hermann has, with the greatest 
probability, restored it (without any further critical traces 
to guide him than the thing itself, and the imitations given 
above) in one of the remains of the poetry, Hymn Merc, 
241, where it is said of the infant Mercury, that, at the 
approach of Apollo, he retired quickly to his swaddling- 
clothes, and wrapped himself up in them. 

A/} pa veoWovTO'Sy 'TrpoKaXeup.evo^ rj^vfiov vicvov 
'Eyptfa-anov hnreov ye. 

It is true that the text might remain as it is here for Mer- 
cury was really a new-born child ; but the dfj stands in a 
part of the construction and of the verse, where it is con- 
trary to all we know and feel of Greek. As soon, however, 
as, with Hermann, we write <firj 9 'just as a new-born child/ 
all is correct and beautiful. If Antimachus had in his 
mind some older passage, it was either this or a similar 
one ; for the astonishingly mutilated words of that poet, 
which the scholiast quotes on II, E. 500, <prj yepcov olo-w, can 
hardly have stood any where but at the beginning of a 
verse, as thus : 

&ij pa yepoDV diaiv 

6 2. According to this, there is no doubt that as long 
as the syllable (j)rj stands in the second Homeric passage, 
it must be construed and explained as Zenodotus has 
done. For in answer to the observation, that Homer 
nowhere else uses cjyrj thus, I think it would be sufficient 



298 HOMERIC BALLADS. 

to say, that such an unintelligible piece of patchwork as 
the sentence is according to the common reading does not 
occur again in all Homer. And do we not make Homer 
use, in every instance but one, xpl > and hi that one del ? in 
every instance but one ^px e ? an d in that one apx € ? In our 
days, the objection, generally speaking, can no longer 
have any force ; for as it is proved by Antimachus alone, 
that the construction with <prj existed in the old epic lan- 
guage, is it to be wondered at (even if Homer himself did 
not use it) that it should be introduced once or twice into 
Homer's poem by rhapsodists, who went on reciting through 
the whole cycle? 

' 3. This must be, therefore, in our text the established 
form for the passage at 77. E. 499 ; because it stands there 
correct to the very letter; because it is not only Greek, 
but old Greek ; and because in explaining it away we make 
Homer talk unintelligibly. But how is it in the first pas- 
sage ? It is true that there is no absolute need of it there ; 
but that very circumstance shews that we do Zenodotus 
an injustice, if we accuse him of acting from mere capri- 
cious fancy. Zenodotus could never have thought of 
writing <pr) there, if it had not been a reading of his time ; 
and as such it must, at all events, be treated with proper 
respect/ 

The careless reading of Buttmann is evident in this 
passage. He gives Hermann the credit of having restored 
the word $77', in the line quoted from the Hymn of Mer- 
cury, * without any further critical traces to guide him than 
the thing itself, and the intimations given above. 9 It happens 
that the line has long been a subject of critical dispute 
and conjecture. The oldest editions have drj pa veoXkvros, 
but this construction of fir) is intolerable. Martinus re- 
commended (tttj, or firj, or ola ; which last was received by 



NOTE UPON <!>}. 299 

several other critics. But Barnes, before Hermann was 
born, had proposed <fifj pa 9 translating the passage ' videri 
utique voluit nuper lotus. 9 Here I submit that, though he 
interprets, and, of course, accents the word in a different 
manner, he afforded Hermann a very intelligible ' critical 
trace;' and I further submit that a critic on Homer, who has 
not read Barnes, or, having read him, has forgotten what 
he wrote, is a very careless reader indeed. [I may remark, 
in passing, that Shelley seems to have read (fir) in the sense 
of as, in his striking version of the Hymn to Mercury : 
There he lay, innocent as a new-born child.] 
It should be added, that Buttmann affords no great 
proof of learning or sagacity in representing the words 
quoted from Antimachus — (prj yepcov olo-iv — as being 6 as- 
tonishingly mutilated/ or in proposing as their substitutes, 
(fir} pa yepcov olo-iv. For to what could olo-iv refer ? The 
mending is easier. It is but a simple feature. Read 
merely (fir) yepavoio-iv, like cranes — common objects of com- 
parison in epic poetry. 



*** I here conclude these ballads. Accident has con- 
fined the series to the Odyssey ; but I must add, that I 
think ii the older of the two Homeric poems ; for which 
belief, in spite of Longinus, I could adduce some reasons ; 
but I have taken up sufficient quantity of room already. 
And so I bid farewell to Homer, the Poet. In the words 
of a sincere admirer, though a feeble follower, Silius 
Italicus : 

Meruit deus esse videri, 
Et fuit in tanto non parvum pectore numen, 
Carmine complexus terram, mare, sidera, manes, 
Et cantu Musas, et Phcebum aquavit honore. 

Punic, x. Lib. xiii. 786-9. 



THE END. 



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